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STRUAN 


STRUAN 

A  NOVEL  BY 

Julia    Magruder 

AUTHOR  OF  The  Princess  Sonia,  A  Beautiful  Alien,  ETC. 

"When  half-gods  go, 

The  gods  arrive." — EMERSON. 


BOSTON 

Richard   G.   Badger 

The  Gorbam  Press 
1903 


COPYRIGHT   1898   BY   RICHARD  G.    BAncir.  4  Co. 


All  Rights  Reserved 


Printed  at   The  Gorham  Press  Boston 


STRUAN 


I. 

AT  the  age  of  nineteen,  Jenny  Lacy  felt 
herself  a  woman,  and  a  self-made  one. 
Looking  backward  on  her  birthday  morn- 
ing, she  was  conscious  of  a  sense  of  satisfaction. 
It  was  incomplete,  however ;  for  she  was  yet  far 
from  her  goal,  which  was  to  become  a  popular 
singer  of  light  opera.  On  the  other  hand,  she  was 
quite  as  far  from  the  starting-point, —  a  distinct 
and  never-to-be  forgotten  day,  five  years  ago,  when 
this  daring  ambition  had  entered  her  mind  and  an- 
chored itself  in  her  soul. 

Since  that  day  she  had  worked  toward  her  pur- 
pose with  the  concentration  of  a  passion,  and  now, 
at  nineteen.,  she  saw  success  in  sight. 

She  had   reached    this    point  in  her    career  by 
her  own  unaided  efforts, —  a  fact  pleasant  to  think 
upon,    now    that    the    goal,    though    distant,   was 
I 


2061916 


2  STRUAN 

visible ;  but  she  freely  acknowledged  that,  along 
the  weary  way  which  she  had  come,  she  would 
by  no  means  have  scorned  help,  had  she,  at  any 
time,  seen  her  way  to  getting  it. 

Jenny  had  been  ambitious  from  her  childhood, 
though  it  had  been  long  before  she  got  a  sufficient 
insight  into  life  to  understand  that  her  restless- 
ness, her  excitability,  her  resentment  of  the  actual 
about  her,  was  in  reality  ambition ;  and  it  had 
been  some  time,  even  after  getting  that  knowledge, 
before  she  had  seen  her  way  to  any  outlet  for  these 
inward  strivings. 

It  had  come,  at  last,  with  the  knowledge  that 
she  had  a  voice, —  not  merely  such  a  voice  as 
could  make  pleasant  music  in  Sunday-school  and 
at  "  Commencement,"  but  such  a  voice  as  the  big 
outside  world  might  one  day  be  willing  to  listen 
to.  And  that  was  the  world  of  Jenny's  dream. 

This  dream  of  hers  —  which  had  lasted,  with- 
out a  break,  from  her  fourteenth  to  her  nineteenth 
year  —  had  both  a  locality  and  a  hero.  The  for- 
mer was  the  city  of  New  York  :  the  latter  was 
Lucien  Struan,  the  distinguished  musician,  con- 
ductor, and  composer. 

Jenny's  first  knowledge  of  Struan  had  come 
from  hearing  some  one  read  aloud  a  newspaper 
article  about  him  —  one  of  the  fulsome,  melodra- 


STRUAN  3 

inatic  things  which  do  yet,  at  times,  become  elec- 
trified by  their  subject,  and  informed  with  a  certain 
dynamic  element  which  even  clap-trap  writing  and 
a  vulgar  point  of  view  cannot  disguise. 

Undoubtedly,  Struan  was  such  a  subject.  There 
was  magnetism  in  the  man.  All  who  came  near 
him  felt  it,  and  it  seemed  even  to  extend  to  what 
was  said  and  written  about  him.  Many  who 
skipped  other  personal  paragraphs  read  those  that 
related  to  Struan.  And,  when  his  name  was  men- 
tioned, people  generally  stopped  to  hear  what  was 
said. 

The  article  which  had  so  influenced  Jenny  had 
many  of  the  faults  of  its  kind.  It  was  sensa- 
tional and  overstrained  and  effusive ;  but,  in  spite 
of  all  this,  it  had,  somehow,  got  into  it  some  of 
the  quality  of  the  man.  And  Jenny,  who  had 
never  felt  the  touch  of  such  an  influence  before, 
vibrated  to  it  through  all  her  childish  being.  The 
article  had  a  picture  of  its  subject  printed  with 
it,  a  common  wood-cut,  which,  however,  like 
the  writing,  had  a  certain  character  in  it,  and 
which  possessed  the  soul  of  Jenny,  and  played 
upon  its  sensitiveness  more  than  any  perfect 
beauty  that  she  had  ever  seen. 

Quite  unknown  to  any, —  for  she  was  reserved 
n  her  nature,  and  had  never  had  a  confidant, — 


4  STRUAN 

the  ardent  little  girl  took  all  her  money  and 
bought  the  most  beautiful  blank  book  that  she 
could  find  in  the  town,  and  pasted  this  picture  on 
its  first  page,  followed  by  the  sketch  of  Struan. 

This  sketch  described  him  leading  his  orchestra, 
and  did  not  deal  with  the  personalities  of  his  life 
outside  his  musical  career.  So  it  introduced  Jenny 
to  him  as  a  great  musician  and  a  powerfully  at- 
tractive man,  but  told  her  nothing  more. 

After  that,  it  became  a  habit  with  her  to  scan 
every  newspaper  that  fell  in  her  way,  in  search  of 
the  potent  name ;  and,  as  time  went  on,  her  pretty 
scrap-book  got  richer  and  richer  with  the  accounts 
of  her  hero's  triumphant  progress  in  his  chosen 
field  of  labor  and  self-expression. 

Even  Jenny  could  form  some  conception  of 
what  such  triumphs  must  be,  for  she  had  her  own 
uncomprehended  little  thrills  and  stirrings  when 
her  voice  would  rise  high  above  the  rest  in  the 
Sunday-school  singing,  and  people  would  turn  and 
look,  or  when,  at  school  commencements,  she 
sang,  as  she  knew,  far  better  than  any  one  else. 

There  was  no  friend,  however,  to  praise  Jenny 
when  she  did  well  or  to  stimulate  her  to  do 
better.  Her  parents  were  dead,  and  she  lived  with 
a  phlegmatic  and  hard-working  sister-in-law,  who 
saw  nothing  in  music,  at  best,  and  looked  upon 


STRUAN  5 

Jenny's  pretty  carolling  as  rather  a  nuisance  than 
otherwise.  Jenny's  brother  sent  her  to  school, 
and  gave  her  such  advantages  as  the  little  Western 
village  had  to  offer,  and  she  was  kindly  treated, 
on  the  whole.  But  no  one  ever  had  even  a  glim- 
mer of  such  thoughts  about  her  as  those  which 
she  indulged  in  for  herself. 

And,  always,  the  centre  of  her  system  was  Lu- 
cien  Struan.  Somehow  or  other,  she  must  find 
the  way  of  going  to  New  York,  and  taking  sing- 
ing-lessons from  Struan.  Afterward  —  as  far  as 
she  ever  paused  now,  to  look  beyond  that  goal  of 
glory  —  she  meant  to  go  on  the  stage. 

With  this  idea  firmly  planted  in  her  mind,  it 
was  amazing  to  see  how  silently  and  steadily,  as 
the  passing  years  changed  her  from  a  child  to 
a  rapidly  maturing  girl,  Jenny  managed  to  work 
toward  her  end.  She  studied  well  at  school,  and 
practised  her  music  with  an  ardor  and  industry 
which  amazed  her  teachers.  She  got  from  them 
the  best  attention  and  instruction  that  they  were 
capable  of  giving ;  and  when  she  went  quite  be- 
yond them,  as  she  soon  did,  she  contrived  to  go 
for  lessons,  once  a  week,  to  a  larger  place  about 
ten  miles  away.  At  the  same  time  she  was  culti- 
vating, more  through  her  own  intuition  than  from 
any  other  source,  a  talent  which  she  had  for  reci- 


6  STRUAN 

tation.  By  the  time  that  she  was  seventeen  she 
was  being  paid  for  her  services  in  singing  and  re- 
citing at  concerts  and  such  entertainments. 

As  she  was  incontestably  pretty  and  had  a  talent 
for  picturesque  dressing,  she  soon  became  a  favor- 
ite, and  might  have  gone  on  to  a  much  greater 
success  in  this  limited  field. 

But  a  limited  field  was  not  to  Jenny's  taste. 
She  never  swerved  from  her  original  purpose,  and 
for  two  years  she  went  about,  filling  engagements 
to  sing  and  recite,  working  hard  all  the  time  at  her 
music ;  and  now,  by  dint  of  good  management 
and  strict  economy,  she  had  saved  enough  for  her 
cherished  purpose, —  the  removal  to  New  York 
and  the  lessons  from  Struan. 

Meantime  she.  had  followed  him  from  afar 
through  every  step  of  his  public  career,  and  her 
scrap-book  was  full  and  overflowing.  The  origi- 
nal picture  had  been  added  to  by  many  others, 
some  ideally  handsome  and  straight-featured,  some 
repellently  rough  and  rugged,  according  to  the  art 
or  the  caprice  of  wood-cutter  or  photographer;  but 
all,  in  some  inscrutable  way,  were  Struan,  with 
the  mark  of  his  own  character  on  them. 

Jenny  had  grown  up  exceptionally  free  from 
training  or  mental  direction  of  any  kind.  Her 
brother  and  her  sister-in-law  recognized  the  fact 


STRUAN  7 

that  she  was  an  alien,  having  nothing  in  common 
with  them  and  their  children.  Being  themselves 
dull  and  practical  people,  with  far  more  conscious- 
ness of  physical  than  of  spiritual  needs,  they  left 
Jenny  to  her  own  devices,  and  to  such  a  system  of 
morals  as  she  might  get  from  her  own  somewhat 
unaccountable  nature  and  from  the  leadings  of  her 
teachers  at  school  and  Sunday-school,  whom  Jenny, 
more  or  less,  despised. 

So  she  was  wonderfully  free  from  trammels  of 
every  kind,  both  those  from  without  and  those 
from  within,  when  she  arrived  in  New  York. 
She  was  not  on  the  pinnacle  of  success ;  but  she 
was  high  enough,  after  her  dull,  struggling  life,  to 
find  her  present  position  an  almost  dangerous 
eminence. 

She  was  feeling  a  little  giddy  in  consequence, 
when  she  opened  her  eyes  the  first  morning  in  her 
quiet  boarding-house,  chosen  chiefly  for  economy. 
Her  spirit,  however,  was  all  undaunted,  as  she 
dressed  herself  for  the  great  event  of  her  first 
meeting  with  Struan.  She  had  by  nature  a  spirit, 
unconventional  and  unafraid,  and  had  always  gone 
far  ahead  of  her  companions,  doing  and  venturing 
things  which  sufficiently  accounted  for  her  positive 
self-secure  and,  it  must  be  owned,  somewhat  con- 
ceited little  manner. 


8  STRUAN 

There  was  nothing  of  this  manner  in  her  now, 
however.  She  had  sloughed  it  off,  at  her  entrance 
to  New  York ;  and,  at  the  thought  of  her  meet- 
ing with  Struan,  she  was  almost  pathetically 
humble.  It  was  as  much  to  Jenny  as  an  audience 
with  the  king  to  a  royalist.  She  knew  that  Struan 
had  never  been  a  public  singer  himself,  but  she 
knew  that  he  was  a  power  of  whom  public  singers 
stood  in  awe.  It  was  not  that,  however,  which 
made  her  feel  humble  and  timid  for  the  first  time 
in  her  life.  Struan  was  said  to  be  wilful,  capri- 
cious, impulsive ;  hard  and  tyrannical  or  gentle 
and  winning,  as  the  case  might  be.  But  it  was 
hot  this,  either.  She  knew  he  was  a  big  man, 
whose  name  and  co-operation  made  any  enterprise 
that  depended  upon  public  support  a  success.  But 
it  was  not  this.  She  knew,  also,  that  he  had  cer- 
tain great  qualities  of  heart  which  made  him  of 
so  prodigal  a  generosity  to  any  friend  in  trouble 
that,  more  than  once,  it  had  practically  impover- 
ished him.  In  her  narrow  sphere,  she  had  known 
nothing  like  any  of  these  things  ;  yet  it  was  none 
of  these  that  gave  her  such  strange  feelings  now. 

Jenny  had  carefully  planned  her  costume  for 
this  occasion,  telling  herself  that  it  was  a  matter 
of  importance,  since  she  hoped  to  be  a  public 
singer,  that  he  should  see  her  looking  her  best. 


STRUAN  9 

Now,  as  she  dressed  for  this  meeting,  an  insidious 
suggestion  came  to  her  mind  that  perhaps  she 
was  not  so  smart,  seen  in  a  city  mirror,  as  she  had 
seemed  to  herself  at  home.  Was  there  not  even 
something  the  least  bit  countrified  in  her  appear- 
ance ?  This  suspicion,  in  spite  of  her,  made  her 
feel  like  crying,  and  kept  her  heart  rather  heavy 
all  the  time  that  she  was  going  down  town  in  the 
street-cars.  As  she  looked  out  of  the  window 
and  eagerly  compared  herself  to  the  girls  who 
were  walking  on  the  street,  the  conviction  deep- 
ened. 

Her  misgivings  about  her  dress  suggested  others 
about  her  voice ;  and,  for  perhaps  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  she  wished  herself  back  at  home,  and  felt 
that  she  could  be  content  to  remain  in  obscurity. 

It  was  not  in  Jenny,  however,  to  be  cowardly. 
She  rallied  her  forces,  and  put  on  a  very  resolute 
air,  as  she  mounted  the  steps  of  the  house  of 
which  she  had  come  in  search,  and  read  on  a 
small  sign,  among  others  fastened  at  the  side  of 
the  door,  the  all-potent  name  of  Lucien  Struan. 

She  touched  the  bell,  and  stood  waiting,  with  a 
trembling  heart.  A  boy,  preoccupied  and  indiffer- 
ent in  his  manner,  opened  the  door,  and  she  asked 
if  Mr.  Struan  was  in.  (How  like  a  dream  it  was ! 
Almost  as  if  she  had  called  at  Olympus,  and  in- 


io  STRUAN 

quired  of  Ganymede  for  Jove.)  The  boy  an- 
swered in  the  affirmative,  but  demanded  whether 
or  not  she  had  an  appointment.  Having  written 
the  day  before  to  say  that  she  would  call  at  this 
hour,  she  boldly  replied  that  she  had.  The 
phlegmatic  youth  then  led  her  down  a  long  pas- 
sage, and  ushered  her  into  a  small  reception-room, 
where  she  was  requested  to  wait.  She  had  given 
her  card,  and  with  it  the  boy  disappeared. 

In  a  moment  he  came  back,  said  briefly  that  her 
card  had  been  sent  in,  and  then  went  his  indiffer- 
ent way,  and  left  her  there  alone. 

Jenny  sat  still  and  waited  with  a  fluttering 
heart.  Various  sounds  came  to  her,  but  all  were 
strange,  unsympathetic,  uncongenial.  Occasion- 
ally some  one  would  hurry  through  the  room, 
glancing  at  her  inhospitably. 

It  seemed  a  very  long  while  that  she  waited. 
It  must  have  been  more  than  an  hour.  After  a 
while  the  boy  who  had  admitted  her  passed 
through  the  room,  without  looking  at  her.  When 
he  came  back,  she  asked  him  if  Mr.  Struan  had 
received  her  card.  He  gave  a  careless  affirmative 
reply,  and  went  off  down  the  long  passage. 

Still  she  sat  and  waited  for  a  summons,  which 
did  not  come.  She  began  to  feel  that,  if  that  door 
opened  again  for  any  one  who  passed  her  by  in 


STRUAN  ii 

this  cold  and    heartless  way,  she  should  lose  her 
self-command,  and  cry. 

The  door  opened  again.  A  man  came  in,  with 
his  hat  on.  At  sight  of  her,  he  lifted  it,  mechani- 
cally, and  would  have  passed  on,  but  that  he  met 
her  glance,  and  it  arrested  him. 

The  man's  face  was  dark.  It  had  deep  lines 
and  rugged  contours.  It  looked,  at  this  moment, 
slightly  haggard,  and  as  if  concentrated  on  some 
perplexing  thought.  The  eyes,  steady  and  serious 
rather  than  large,  were  sunk  deep  under  strongly 
modelled  brows.  He  was  older  than  she  had  ex- 
pected to  see  him, —  older,  and  not  so  handsome. 
But  she  knew  him  at  once. 

"  Can  I  do  anything  for  you  ? "  he  said,  re-act- 
ing, as  she  saw,  from  the  impulse  which,  at  first 
sight  of  her,  had  urged  him  to  hurry  on. 

For  an  instant  she  was  totally  unable  to  speak. 
The  long  and  anxious  time  of  waiting  had  strained 
her  nervous  endurance  much.  Added  to  this,  the 
impression  which  she  received  from  the  man  be- 
fore her  —  an  impression  of  power  and  importance 
—  made  her  small  claims  to  his  attention  seem 
unwarranted,  and  even  absurd.  She  was  humili- 
ated to  feel  her  eyes  fill  with  tears. 

Evidently,  he  noticed  this. 

"  Come  into  my  office,"  he  said  kindly.  "  Did 
you  wish  to  see  me  ?  I  am  Lucien  Struan." 


12  STRUAN 

She  nodded,  without  speaking ;  and  he  led  the 
way  down  a  short  passage,  and  opened  a  door  at 
its  end.  There  was  a  screen  before  this  doorj 
and,  when  she  had  walked  round  it,  she  found 
herself  in  a  large  room,  with  an  office-desk  covered 
with  papers  on  one  side  of  it  and  a  grand  piano  on 
the  other. 

Going  quickly  to  a  table,  he  brought  her  a  glass 
of  water.  She  had  been  struggling  hard  for  self- 
command,  and  with  success.  When  she  had 
swallowed  the  water  and  returned  the  glass  to 
him,  she  was  able  to  speak  calmly. 

"I  am  Miss  Lacy, —  Jenny  Lacy,"  she  said. 
"  I  wrote  you  a  note  yesterday,  to  say  that  I 
would  call  this  morning  at  eleven." 

A  look  of  deprecation  came  into  his  face. 

"  I  have  to  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "  1 
think  I  got  the  note,  and  I  should  have  had  it 
answered.  I  did  not  notice  that  it  said  to-day. 
Tell  me  what  I  can  do  for  you." 

"  But  I  fear  you  haven't  time  " — 

"  One  may  always  have  time  by  taking  it,"  he 
said.  "  My  business  now  is  with  you." 

"  I  wrote  you,"  began  Jenny,  choking  a  little, 
"  that  I  wanted  to  go  on  the  stage,  to  be  a  public 
singer." 

"  Ah !  did  you  ? "  he  said,  and  she  fancied  an 


STRUAN  13 

inflection  of  disappointment  in  his  voice.  While 
she  was  wondering  at  this,  he  said  abruptly, — 

«  Why  ?  " 

Jenny  looked  at  him,  puzzled. 

"  Why  do  you  wish  to  become  a  public 
singer  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Because,"  she  began,  wonderingly, —  "  be- 
cause I  want  to." 

u  Is  there  any  one  depending  on  you  for  sup- 
port or  help  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Is  it  necessary  for  you  to  make  your  own 
living  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  it's  not  for  that  — 

"  For  what,  then  ?  "  he  said  abruptly. 

He  looked  searchingly  into  her  eyes ;  but,  as 
she  did  not  at  once  reply,  he  turned,  and  said 
with  a  change  of  tone  : 

"  But,  first,  we  will  try  your  voice." 

Going  to  the  piano,  he  raised  it,  and  motioned 
her  to  come  to  his  side. 

"  What  will  you  sing  ?  "  he  said,  seating  him- 
self. 

She  mentioned  a  song.  It  was  one  of  his  own 
compositions.  He  recognized  the  compliment 
by  the  briefest  possible  bow,  as  he  struck  the 
chords. 


H  STRUAN 

What  a  master  touch !  Already  Jenny  real- 
ized that  it  was  different  from  anything  she  had 
ever  heard  before.  It  roused  her  to  a  change  of 

o 

mood,  and  she  even  suspected  that  the  brief  in- 
troduction which  he  played  had  its  influence  upon 
him  as  well.  His  powerful  body  swayed  gently  to 
the  waves  of  sound,  and  his  face  showed  also  their 
soothing  touch.  At  last,  with  the  firm  stroke  of 
one  finger,  he  sounded  the  resonant  note  for 
Jenny  to  begin. 

At  first,  her  voice  trembled,  and  her  recent 
emotion  made  it  a  trifle  husky.  But,  as  she  went 
resolutely  on,  it  cleared ;  and  she  knew  that  she 
was  doing  her  best. 

Breathlessly,  she  waited  for  him  to  speak.  He 
did  so  with  promptness  and  decision. 

"  You  have  a  charming  voice,"  he  said  — "  not 
great,  in  any  sense,  but  charming.  Still,  I  do  not 
advise  you  to  go  on  the  stage." 

"  Or  even  to  sing  in  public  ?  "  she  asked  with 
a  sinking  heart. 

"  Or  even  to  sing  in  public.  Why  should 
you  ?  " 

Jenny  could  not  speak  for  the  instant ;  and,  as 
she  was  silent,  he  went  on  : 

"  If  you  had  one  of  the  great  voices  of  the 
world,  I  should  say  that  you  owed  a  debt  to  your 


STRUAN  15 

generation  ;  but  your  voice,  pretty  as  it  is,  is  only 
one  of  many.  Your  place  can  easily  be  filled  by 
substitute.  I  advise  you  to  return  to  your  home 
and  the  life  you  have  left." 

"  I  refuse  !  "  cried  Jenny,  hotly.  "  I  hate  that 
stupid  life."  Then,  feeling  that  she  had  lost  con- 
trol of  herself,  she  added  more  calmly  :  "  I  don't 
want  you  to  suppose  that  I  had  any  ridiculous 
ideas  about  my  voice,  or  thought  myself  likely  to 
become  a  great  singer.  I  was  never  so  conceited. 
And,  as  to  owing  a  debt  to  the  world,  I  never 
talked  any  such  nonsense  to  myself  since  I  was 
born.  I  have  thought  that  the  world  owed  me 
something,  and  it's  that  that  I  am  trying  to  get. 
Suppose  my  voice  is  only  ordinary.  I  can  improve 
it,  or,  at  least,  get  an  ordinary  singer's  position, 
provided  I  work  hard  and  acquire  a  good  method. 
That  is  what  I  came  here  to  do.  Will  you  give 
me  lessons  ?  " 

The  great  man  looked  at  her  shrewdly  for  a 
few  seconds.  Then  he  said  : 

"  My  charges  are  high, —  twenty  dollars  a 
lesson." 

Jenny  did  not  flinch. 

"  Will  you  teach  me  ?  "   she  said. 

"  How  many  lessons  would  you  want  to 
take  ?  " 


16  STRUAN 

He  had  to  lower  his  eyes,  to  prevent  her  seeing 
in  them  the  amused  consciousness  of  the  fact  that 
she  was  doing  a  sum  in  mental  arithmetic. 

Presently  she  said  firmly  : 

"  Fifteen." 

"  That  would  not  be  enough,"  he  said. 

"  For  the  present  it  would.  I'd  come  back 
next  year." 

"And  work  for  the  money  meanwhile,  I  sup- 
pose ! " 

She  nodded,  without  speaking. 

"  You  are  determined,  then  ?  " 

"Yes,  I'm  determined.  If  you  will  not  teach 
me,  I'll  get  some  one  else, —  the  next  best." 

He  hesitated  just  a  moment.  Then  he  said  de- 
cidedly : 

41  If  your  mind  is  quite  made  up,  I  will  teach 
you.  But  will  you  sit  down  a  moment,  and  let 
me  have  a  little  talk  with  you  ?  " 

Jenny  took  the  chair  to  which  he  pointed,  and 
he  seated  himself  opposite. 

"  There  are  certain  lessons  which  I  might  teach 
you,"  he  said,  "  and  which  I  should  like  to  teach 
you,  that  it  would  be  far  more  to  your  advantage 
to  learn  than  these  singing-lessons  that  your  heart 
is  so  set  upon." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  as  if  she  thought  she  caught 


STRUAN  17 

his  meaning,  "  I  know  well  enough  that  there  are 
other  things  in  which  I  need  instruction, —  lessons 
in  life,  which  I  am  as  anxious  to  learn  as  I  am  to 
learn  singing.  I  shall  get  both  together  here  in 
New  York.  I  cannot  endure  the  narrowness  of 
my  life  at  home.  I  am  sick  of  the  stagnation 
of  it.  Life  is  slipping  past  me,  and  I've  made  no 
use  of  it.  I  am  not  willing  to  die  before  I  have 
lived.  The  danger  of  that  makes  me  wild." 
"And  what  do  you  mean  by  l  living '  ?  " 
"  Feeling !  "  she  said,  throwing  out  her  hand 
with  one  of  those  gestures  which  had  made 
her  successful  as  a  public  reciter;  for  there  was 
natural  force  and  sympathy  in  it.  "  I  have  had 
nothing  worthy  to  be  called  feeling  in  my  life, 
unless  it  be  the  feverish  desire  to  feel !  I'd  far 
rather  suffer  through  feeling  than  not  feel  at  all. 
It's  all  very  well  for  you  people  who  live  in  a 
world  of  action  and  movement  to  recommend 
quiet  and  repose  to  the  rest  of  us,  who  have  had 
it  till  we  are  sick  of  it.  No,  Mr.  Struan,  I  shall 
not  take  your  advice.  I  have  worked  for  years  to 
prepare  myself  for  the  stage,  and  I  am  not  going 
to  be  balked  by  any  tiresome  ideas  about  prudence 
and  discretion.  .  I  know  what  you  would  say,  and 
of  course  I  thank  you  very  much  for  caring  what 
becomes  of  me.  All  I  ask  of  you  now,  however. 


i8  STRUAN 

is  to  teach  me  to  sing.  Do  that,  and  I'll  take 
care  of  the  rest.  If  I  am  only  fitted  for  a  second 
or  third  rate  place  on  the  stage,  I'll  take  it,  and 
make  the  most  of  it." 

Struan's  eyes  were  very  penetrating.  He  fixed 
them  on  her  now,  as  he  said  : 

"There's  no  use,  I  suppose,  in  telling  you  that 
you  will  probably  regret  it  ?  " 

"  None  in  the  world.  If  I  regret  it,  it  will 
be  my  own  regret.  I  shall  trouble  no  one  else 
with  it." 

"  Advice  would  be  wasted  here,  I  see,"  said 
Struan.  "So  I  will  be  wise,  and  refrain.  You 
could  never  be  made  to  believe  now  that  the  time 
may  come  when  the  thought  of  one  hour's  mental 
stagnation  would  be  a  dream  of  bliss  to  you.  It 
is  a  heavier  weariness  to  be  tired  of  feeling  than 
to  be  tired  of  not  feeling,  especially  if  it  should 
so  happen  that  feeling  is  mostly  pain ;  and  that 
may  be,  you  know." 

He  got  up  then,  and  with  a  sudden  show  of 
hurry  began  to  arrange  the  hours  for  the  lessons. 

They  were  to  be  twice  a  week,  at  this  place,  at 
ten  in  the  morning.  These  details  settled,  he 
went  with  her  through  the  long  passage,  and  down 
to  the  door,  where  a  cab  stood  waiting.  Looking 
at  his  watch,  he  gave  a  little  exclamation  of  sur- 


STRUAN  19 

prise,  and  sprang  into  the  vehicle,  telling  the  cab- 
man to  driv«  quickly  to  a  given  address. 

After  that  first  meeting,  the  great  man's  manner 
toward  his  young  pupil  changed.  She  found  him 
a  strict  teacher,  who  rarely  spoke,  except  to  in- 
struct, and  who  seemed  quite  to  have  lost  sight  of 
her  as  an  independent  individuality. 
,  Jenny  practised  hard,  and  threw  her  whole  soul 
into  the  effort  to  compel  some  expression  of  praise 
from  him.  Sometimes  he  would  look  as  if  he 
approved ;  but,  as  he  said  nothing,  she  began  to 
think  him  obstinate.  She  could  see  that,  under 
the  marvellous  instruction  he  gave  her,  she  was 
making  great  progress ;  and  she  wondered  if  the 
time  would  ever  come  when  he  would  tell  her  so. 

One  thing  she  had  learned  from  outside  report, 
and  that  was  that  he  had  shown  an  inexplicable 
exception  in  her  favor  by  taking  her  as  a  pupil. 
She  discovered,  from  various  sources,  that  he  had 
given  up  taking  pupils,  and  that  all  applications, 
for  a  long  time  past,  had  been  refused.  This 
made  her  won'der  whether  her  voice  might  not  be 
better  than  he  had  allowed  her  to  know.  A  more 
self-conscious  woman  than  Jenny  might  have 
attributed  his  favoritism  to  personal  interest ;  but 
that  the  god,  whom  he  was  in  her  eyes,  should 
stoop  to  notice  her  from  any  other  motive  than 


20  STRUAN 

interest  in  her  music  never  crossed  her  unsuspect- 
ing mind.  It  was  as  a  being  far  removed  from 
her  sphere,  and  totally  beyond  her  reach,  that  she 
thought  of  him.  It  greatly  disturbed  her,  there- 
fore, to  realize  that  he  was  possessed  by  a  very 
ungodlike  spirit  of  sadness.  Often  she  would  go 
through  a  whole  lesson  preoccupied  by  this  con- 
sciousness about  him.  As  she  stood  a  little  back 
of  him,  while  he  played  her  accompaniments,  she 
would  look  down  upon  his  face,  and  fancy  that  she 
saw  scored  there  the  plain  indications  of  sorrow. 
The  eyes,  which  followed  the  notes  automatically 
across  the  page,  looked  sometimes  fierce  and 
gloomy  under  the  contracted  brows.  The  rather 
short  nose  and  firm  mouth  had,  she  imagined, 
a  look  of  self-repression. 

Jenny  often  wished  that  it  were  possible  for  her 
to  express  some  sympathy  for  him,  but  she  never 
for  an  instant  conceived  that  this  could  be. 
Sometimes  she  did  make  the  effort  to  put  it  into 
her  voice ;  and  she  would  then  fancy,  though  he 
said  nothing,  that  perhaps  he  felt  it.  She  never 
dared  hope,  though,  that  he  recognized  any  per- 
sonal element  in  it.  Indeed,  it  would  have  fright- 
ened her  to  have  this  so. 

On  one  day  she  became  certain  that  the  currents 
of  their  feelings  met,  and  flowed  together.  She 


STRUAN  21 

had  brought  a  new  song  to  sing  for  him,  one  that 
she  had  practised  beforehand  with  great  care. 

When  the  song  ended,  however,  he  did  not  so 
much  as  look  at  her ;  but  he  said  : 

lt  I  must  tell  you  that  I  underestimated  your 
voice.  It  is,  as  I  said,  not  great ;  but  it  is  very 
far  beyond  the  mediocrity  with  which  you  once 
said  that  you  would  be  content." 

"  I  said  that  only  supposing  I  discovered  that  it 
was  the  best  attainable,  and  I  never  ceased  to 
hope  for  something  better,"  she  said. 

He  did  not  answer,  and  the  lesson  ended  there. 


II, 

TWO  or  three  lessons  went  by,  almost  as 
devoid  of  any  personal  relationship  be- 
tween teacher  and  pupil  as  if  both  had 
been  ingeniously  constructed  machines.  Jenny 
felt  that  she  was  learning,  as  if  by  magic,  but  it 
irked  her  spirit  a  little  that  her  master  was  so 
silent. 

At  last,  one  day,  at  the  close  of  her  lesson, 
Struan  turned  abruptly  from  the  piano,  and,  throw-- 
ing himself,  in  an  impulsive  way  that  he  had,  into 
a  big  chair,  said  : 

"  Sit  down  a  moment.  I  want  to  speak  to 
you." 

Jenny  felt  surprised.  She  gave  no  evidence  of 
this,  however,  as  she  took  her  seat  in  the  cane- 
backed  revolving  chair  which  stood  before  the 
desk,  and  wheeled  herself  round  toward  him.  She 
had  rolled  her  song  into  a  slender  tube,  one  end 
of  which  she  put  against  her  lips,  with  an  instinct 
to  protect  herself  from  a  possible  betrayal,  which 
might  lie  in  their  expression. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you,"  said  Struan,  abruptly, 
"  that  I  have  it  in  my  power  now  to  get  a  good 
engagement  for  you." 

22 


STRUAN  23 

The  girl's  eyes  showed  a  sudden  fire. 

"  Not  really  ? "  she  said.  "  But  I  haven't 
studied  enough.  I'm  not  equal  to  it." 

"  I  am  prepared  to  say  that  you  are ;  and,  if  I 
say  so,  with  the  advantages  which  you  possess 
in  yourself,  you  can  get  the  position.  It  is  a  good 
company,  with  an  honorable  and  considerate  man- 
agement. If  you  are  going  on  the  stage,  you 
could  not  do  better." 

"  What  do  you  advise  ? "  she  asked  breath- 
lessly. 

"What  I  advised  at  first, —  that  you  should 
give  up  the  idea  of  the  stage." 

She  grew  very  grave ;  and  her  voice  sounded  a 
little  hard,  as  she  said  : 

"  I  am  not  speaking  of  advice  of  that  sort.  I 
want  your  advice  as  my  music-teacher." 

"Then  you  don't  value  it  as  that  of  your 
friend  ? " 

"  I  didn't  know  that  you  were  my  friend,"  she 
said  with  a  suggestion  of  humility, —  the  first  he 
had  ever  seen  in  her. 

"  I  am,  and  I  propose  now  to  prove  it.  When 
this  opportunity  came,  I  thought,  with  some  pride, 
of  giving  it  to  you ;  and  I  must  tell  you  that  I  be- 
lieve you  could,  with  this  company,  make  a  hit,  as 
they  say." 


24  STRUAN 

"  Ah  ! "  she  said,  throwing  up  her  chin  and 
smiling  at  him  half  defiantly  under  lowered  lids, 
and  through  long  lashes  :  "  that  is  what  I  should 
like, —  to  make  a  hit!  It  is  the  thing  of  all 
others  which  I  have  thought  of  with  most  de- 
light." 

She  felt  his  gaze  upon  her  turning  cold,  and 
imagined  that  it  was  because  something  in  her 
mood  jarred  upon  him. 

"  I  wish  you  would  agree  to  say  nothing  but 
the  absolute  truth  to  me  in  this  talk, —  as  if  you 
were  on  oath,"  he  said.  "  Now  do  you  mean  what 
you  have  just  said  ?  " 

His  seriousness  perplexed  her,  and  made  her 
also  grave. 

"  Do  I  mean  what  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  the  idea  of  making  a  hit 
on  the  stage  is  the  thing  which  you  have  always 
thought  of  with  most  delight  ?  " 

"  If  I'm  under  oath,"  she  said,  looking  away 
from  him,  and  tapping  restlessly  on  the  desk  with 
her  roll  of  music,  "  I  suppose  I  ought  to  qualify  it 
by  saying  the  attainable  thing." 

"  If  you  would  let  me  call  myself  your  friend," 
he  said,  "  I  should  like  to  ask  what  you  mean  by 
that.  Just  at  this  point  of  your  life  I  should  like 
you  to  give  me  the  place  and  privileges  of  a  friend, 


STRUAN  25 

for  reasons  which  I  will  presently  explain.  Could 
you,  without  knowing  me  any  better  than  you  do, 
look  upon  me  as  your  friend  as  well  as  your  music- 
teacher  ? —  for  it  is  in  both  these  positions  that  I 
must  advise  you  now." 

"  I  am  only  too  thankful  to  have  you  for  my 
friend,"  she  said  very  simply  and  sweetly.  "  It  is 
an  idea  that  had  not  entered  my  head.  I  was 
slow  in  taking  it  in." 

"  Then  tell  me,  as  your  friend,  what  that  unat- 
tainable thing  is  which  you  acknowledge  that  you 
have  thought  of  with  more  delight  even  than  mak- 
ing a  hit  on  the  stage." 

She  felt  herself  blushing,  and  was  annoyed  at 
the  discovery.  She  got  up,  without  speaking,  and 
went  to  the  piano,  where  she  leaned  on  her  elbow, 
with  her  chin  in  her  hand,  and  began  to  turn  over 
some  music  at  which  she  was  not  looking. 

"  Why  don't  you  answer  me  ? "  said  Struan. 
"  It  is  a  matter  of  importance  to  me,  as  your 
friend.  Otherwise  I  should  not  ask." 

"  Oh,  really,"  she  said  with  a  little  embar- 
rassed laugh,  "  I  couldn't  tell  you  that !  I  don't 
want  to  say  things  which  I  should  think  silly 
afterward,  and  which  you  would  think  silly  at 
the  time." 

"  If  we  are  ever  to  get  at  what  I  am  working 


26  STRUAN 

for,  I  see  I  shall  have  to  help  you,"  said  Struan, 
in  a  practical  and  reassuring  voice.  "  It's  a 
simple  thing,  I  imagine.  Like  every  woman,  you 
have  had  dreams  of  marriage,  I  suppose  ?  " 

Jenny  quickly  dropped  her  eyes. 

"  Like  every  silly  school-girl,  rather  !  "  she  said, 
with  a  little  laugh.  "  Since  I  have  been  a  woman 
really,  I  have  put  them  by." 

He  got  up,  moving  quickly,  and  crossed  to  the 
piano.  Then,  taking  her  by  both  her  wrists,  he 
led  her,  with  an  urgency  which  was  almost  force, 
back  to  her  former  place,  and  drew  his  own  chair 
nearer,  so  that  she  could  not  avoid  his  direct  and 
searching  gaze,  except  by  lowering  her  eyelids, 
which  she  did. 

He  waited  a  moment,  and  then  said  in  a  tone 
of  authority  : 

"  Look  at  me,  young  lady  !  " 

For  a  few  seconds  more  her  eyes  remained  cast 
down,  and  she  was  ashamed  to  feel  herself  blush- 
ing again.  When  she  presently  looked  up,  how- 
ever, she  met  a  gaze  so  frank  and  unembarrassed 
that  it  quickly  reassured  her. 

"You  are  at  a  point  of  your  life,"  said  her 
companion,  "  when  you  need  a  friend.  Your 
own  people,  whoever  they  may  be,  seem  to  leave 
you  strangely  to  yourself.  The  consequences  of 


STRUAN  27 

this  liberty  may  be  very  dangerous,  though  I  see 
plainly  that,  up  to  this  point,  your  freedom  has 
been  only  an  advantage  to  you.  So  far,  you  have 
used  it  well.  You  have  not,  however,  been  tried, 
as  you  are  to  be  tried  now  ;  and  I  am  afraid  to  let 
you  go  through  the  ordeal  alone.  I  intend  to  be 
to  you,  at  this  point  of  your  life,  the  friend  that 
you  need.  In  order  that  I  may  do  that,  we  must 
speak  to  each  other  very  frankly.  You  must  tell 
me,  then,  why  you  have  put  aside  your  dreams  of 
marriage." 

She  returned  his  direct  gaze  with  one  of  equal 
candor. 

"  Because  I  found  that  they  were  ridiculous," 
she  said.  "  They  were  overstrained,  sentimental, 
Utopian,  and  all  the  rest  of  it !  It's  hard  for  me 
to  realize  it  now,  but  I  used  to  be  exceedingly 
romantic." 

"  Used  to  be  !  "  he  said,  smiling.  "  Why,  your 
head's  as  packed  with  romance  now  as  a  rosebud 
is  with  perfume !  And  why  shouldn't  it  be  ? 
Why  should  you  ever  have  tried  to  prevent  it  ?  I 
can  assure  you  that  romance  is  as  alive  in  the 
world  to-day  as  it  ever  was,  and  will  continue  to 
be  the  most  living  thing  that  there  is,  as  long  as 
human  nature  lasts ;  that  is,  if  what  you  mean 
by  romance  is  the  love  between  men  and  women." 


28  STRUAN 

He  looked  straight  at  her  to  see  if  she  would 
wince  under  his  plain  speaking,  but  she  took  it 
perfectly  simply. 

"  Don't  you  believe  me  ?  "  he  said. 

She  nodded  her  head. 

u  Yes,  I  believe  you,"  she  answered ;  "  but 
what  I  don't  believe  is  that  that  is  for  me." 

"  And  why  not  for  you  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head  backward  with  a  childish 
motion  of  petulance. 

"  Oh,  because,"  she  said,  "  the  men  who  have 
called  themselves  in  love  with  me  have  never 
made  me  feel  anything  but  indignation  and  con- 
tempt. I'd  rather  be  the  grimmest  sort  of  old 
maid,  hard  and  thin  and  ugly,  than  become  house- 
keeper to  one  of  those  creatures,  with  their  lim- 
ited ideas  of  love." 

His  eyes  were  upon  her  with  a  look  of  kindly 
encouragement  which  took  away  all  sense  of  em- 
barassment,  as  he  said  : 

"  You  consider  their  ideas  of  love  limited,  do 
you  ?  And  yours,  then, —  how  are  they  ? " 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  tell  you,  really  ? "  she 
said.  "  You  wouldn't  laugh  at  me  ?  " 

"  Not  for  the  world  !  " 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  feeling  an  impulse  of  de- 
light in  speaking  out  at  last, —  "I  think  my  ideas 


STRUAN  29 

of  love  are  unlimited,  so  long  as  it  is  real  love. 
That  seems  to  me  the  only  thing  that  is  worth 
sacrificing  everything  for, —  ambition  and  every- 
thing. It's  nothing  for  me  to  talk  about  it,  as 
I've  given  up  thinking  of  it  for  myself;  but  love 
means  all  that  to  me  or  it  means  nothing.  Per- 
haps it  would  be  truer  to  say  that  it  used  to  mean 
all  that,  but  now  it  means  nothing." 

"  You  will  meet  some  one  who  will  make  it 
mean  all  that  to  you  again,"  said  Struan,  suddenly. 

Since  he  had  forced  her  into  the  seat  facing 
him,  he  had  retained  her  hands  in  his,  in  the  effort 
to  compel  her  attention  and  to  force  her  to  meet 
his  gaze.  As  he  said  these  last  words,  she  looked 
at  him  with  a  swift,  astonished,  half-frightened 
glance  that  pierced  swiftly  to  his  heart.  He  be- 
came suddenly  conscious  that  he  was  holding  her 
hands,  then  that  the  consciousness  was  sweet. 
He  held  them  a  second  longer,  while  this  sense 
quickened  within  him.  Then  he  dropped  them 
suddenly,  and  rose  to  his  feet. 

He  crossed  the  floor,  drank  a  glass  of  water, 
raised  a  blind  to  let  in  more  light,  and  then,  com- 
ing back,  took  the  desk-chair  which  she  had  oc- 
cupied at  first,  and  resumed  the  conversation. 

There  was  a  change,  however,  in  both  his  look 
and  his  tone,  as  he  said ; 


30  STRUAN 

"  You  will  have  to  decide  for  yourself  whether 
you  will  take  the  engagement  I  can  secure  for  you 
or  not.  When  you  come  to  your  next  lesson,  I 
shall  expect  you  to  be  ready  with  your  decision." 

"  I  am  ready  now.  I  accept  it,"  she  said 
promptly. 

"  I  cannot  take  any  such  hasty  decision.  You 
are  ignorant  of  the  dangers  and  temptations  of  the 
life  that  you  would  be  entering  upon,  especially  if 
you  make  a  success." 

"  I  am  not  concerned  about  the  temptations," 
she  said  :  "  I  am  concerned  only  about  the  suc- 
cess." 

"  You  imagine  yourself  very  strong  !  " 

"  No,  I  imagine  myself  weak,  if  tempted ;  but 
I  am  not  likely  to  be  tempted." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  tempted  ?  —  tempted 
to  do  wrong  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  doing  wrong  ? "  she 
astonished  him  by  answering  boldly.  "  There  is 
no  temptation  that  I  dread  except  the  tempta- 
tion to  take  less  than  I  want,  in  the  way  of  love. 
That  would  be  my  idea  of  wrong,  and  I'm  not 
afraid  of  doing  that." 

"  But  you  may  meet  a  man  who  could  give  you, 
in  marriage,  all  that  you  desire." 

"  Yes,  so  I  may !  And  so  the  skies  may 
fall !  " 


STRUAN  31 

Her  manner,  as  she  said  this,  forced  a  smile 
from  him ;  but  he  went  on  in  a  business-like 
tone : 

"  I  ought  to  lay  before  you  these  facts.  Your 
engagement  by  this  company  is  a  first-rate  chance 
for  you.  If  you  study  hard,  and  do  as  well  as  I 
believe  you  can  do,  you  ought  to  rise  rapidly. 
But,  if  you  get  to  the  top,  what  is  it  ?  A  name 
tossed  about  from  lip  to  lip,  with  doubtful  respect, 
if  undoubted  admiration ;  hard  work  day  after 
day,  and  triumphs  night  after  night,  which  would 
probably  pall  upon  you  soon  ;  a  good  income,  per- 
haps, to  spend  upon  clothes  and  jewelry ;  and 
lovers  or  would-be  lovers  by  the  score." 

"  I  don't  mind  the  latter,"  she  said ;  "  and 
all  the  rest  of  the  picture  I  like,  even  the  work. 
Money  to  spend  on  clothes  and  jewelry  is  a  thing 
I've  longed  for.  Why  not  ?  It's  very  inno- 
cent." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  his  face  half-sad  and  half-smil- 
ing, "  it's  innocent ;  but  one  soon  comes  to  the 
end  of  that." 

"Well,  I  want  to  come  to  the  end  of  it, 
then  !  " 

"  You  don't  wish  to  be  serious,  I  see." 

"  I  am  serious,  I  assure  you.  I  mean  exactly 
what  I  say.  I  don't  want  you  to  think  me  more 
than  I  am." 


32  STRUAN 

"  I  wish  I  knew  exactly  what  you  are.  The 
advice  which  I  had  meant  to  give  you,  there 
seems  somehow  no  place  for.  I  meant  to  tell  you 
of  this  opening,  and  then  advise  you,  if  you  would 
be  wise  and  prudent,  to  go  back  to  the  country, 
and  marry  there  among  your  own  people,  rather 
than  spend  the  bloom  of  your  life  a  petted  little 
singer  of  light  comedy,  and  all  the  long  remainder 
of  it  a  prey  to  disappointment  and  regret." 

"  I  haven't  much  opinion  of  life,"  she  said 
bluntly.  "  It's  all  pretty  bad,  I  fancy  ;  and  middle 
age  and  old  age  are  bound  to  be  so.  If  I  can  get 
something  out  of  youth,  I  shall  rejoice ;  for  it's 
more  than  most  do.  But  let  me  answer  you," 
she  added  with  a  change  of  tone.  "  In  the  first 
place,  my  marrying  any  of  the  creatures  —  I 
won't  call  them  men  !  —  in  the  neighborhood  of 
my  home  is  out  of  the  question.  And  your  sug- 
gestion of  the  brief  period  of  success  upon  the 
stage  does  not  frighten  me  in  the  least.  The  fact 
that  it  was  success  would  give  me  something 
pleasant  to  remember,  and  my  old  age  would  have 
less  of  regret  in  it  than  if  I  had  lived  the  empty 
life  of  most  of  the  girls  I  have  known." 

<c  You  are  decided,  then,  to  take  this  engage- 
ment ?  " 

"  Quite  decided.      Thank  you,  very  much," 


STRUAN  33 

"  And  you  care  nothing  for  the  dangers  which  I 
have  pointed  out  ?  " 

"  Nothing  whatever,  except  that  they  may 
cause  you  some  anxiety,  seeing  that  you  are  my 
friend." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  softened  light  in  her 
eyes,  as  she  uttered  these  words. 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  my  hope  for  you  will  be, 
whatever  your  lot  in  life,"  he  said.  tl  It  is  in 
your  truth  to  your  ideal  of  love.  When  I  see  that 
you  have  no  expectation  of  having  that  fulfilled,  and 
that,  realizing  this  as  you  do,  you  are  unwilling  to 
take  less,  I  am  comforted  by  the  thought  that  this 
spirit  in  you  may  carry  you  safely  on  to  the  point 
of  realization  of  your  dreams." 

As  Jenny  met  his  look  fixed  on  her,  she  had 
a  sense  of  being  seen  through  and  through,  as  she 
had  never  been  before ;  but  she  felt  no  objection 
to  such  scrutiny. 

"You  don't  understand  me,"  she  said  seriously. 
"  I'd  rather  you  encouraged  me  in  any  delusion  in 
the  world  than  that  one.  I've  fought  that  out, 
and  got  beyond  it.  I  wouldn't  have  it  raise  its 
head  again,  for  all  the  world." 

"  You  are  young  to  be  a  cynic.  I  am  twice 
your  age,  old  enough  to  be  your  father ;  and  yet 
I  have  not  such  hopeless  ideas  of  love." 


34  STRUAN 

"  If  you  have  ever  known  a  completely  happy 
marriage,  where  love  was  equal  on  the  two  sides, 
where  it  stood  the  test  of  time,  and  came  up  to 
your  ideal  of  what  love  could  be,  then  you  have  a 
ground  for  hopefulness  which  I  have  not.  Have 
you  ever  known  such  a  marriage  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say  that  I  have." 

"  Have  you  ever  known  any  credible  witness 
who  told  you  that  they  had  known  such  a  mar- 
riage ?  " 

"  No,  I  can't  say  that,  either ;  but,  still,  I  be- 
lieve in  its  possibility." 

"Then  your  faith  in  God  and  man  is  greater 
than  mine,  if,  with  every  married  couple  you  have 
seen  as  evidence  to  the  contrary,  you  continue  to 
believe." 

"  Given  the  conditions,  I  don't  see  why  it 
should  not  be,"  he  said.  "  I've  never  seen  a  mar- 
riage that  offered  the  ideal  conditions." 

While  he  spoke,  he  observed  that  she  was  draw- 
ing on  her  gloves  and  collecting  her  sheets  of 
music.  She  now  stood  before  him,  ready  to  go ; 
and,  as  she  looked  up  into  his  face,  its  expression 
smote  her  with  a  certain  compunction.  An  im- 
pulse made  her  say  gently  : 

"  You  have  shown  me  such  goodness  and  con- 
sideration that  I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you. 


STRUAN  35 

Indeed,  I  do  thank  you  with  all  my  heart  for 
being  my  friend.  I'll  tell  you  something :  you 
are  my  only  one,  the  only  real  friend  I  have. 
That  will  seem  strange  to  you;  but  there  has  been 
no  one  in  my  life,  so  far,  whom  I've  really  cared 
to  make  a  friend  of.  I've  had  to  stand  alone. 
I've  had  a  hard  fight  for  freedom  and  experience; 
but  I've  got  them  at  last,  in  a  way,  as  people  do 
get  what  they  will  have.  It's  very  good  of  you," 
she  added,  smiling,  with  a  sort  of  meekness  that 
was  extremely  winning,  "  to  offer  the  treasure  of 
your  friendship  to  little  me." 

"And  you  are  my  friend  also,  are  you  not  ? " 
he  asked.  They  had  taken  each  other's  hands  to 
say  good-by,  and  neither  loosened  the  clasp  as 
they  stood  there  face  to  face. 

"  Oh,  I  should  like  to  be  !  "  she  said ;  "  but  it 
seems  so  preposterously  unlikely  that  you  should 
need  my  friendship  or  want  it." 

"  I  need  it,  and  I  want  it.  I  am  not  a  happy 
man,  and  there  are  not  many  things  that  could 
help  to  make  me  so ;  but  to  have  your  friendship 
would  be  one  of  these." 

Struan  was  innocent  as  the  day  of  any  intention 
of  charming  this  young  girl  or  awakening  in  her 
heart  any  feeling  beyond  the  friendliness  which  he 
asked  for;  but  he  could  not  help  it  that  his  eyes 


36  STRUAN 

upon  her  face  were  enthralling  to  her  senses,  and 
his  touch  upon  her  hand  no  less  so.  He  did  not 
know  with  what  a  halo  of  young  romance  and 
worshipful  admiration  this  youthful  creature  had 
so  long  invested  him.  He  could  not  judge  of 
the  influence  of  that  fact  in  the  present  circum- 
stances. She  had  never  given  one  sign  of  the 
feeling  for  him  which  a  thousand  women  had 
urged  upon  him,  to  his  shrinking  and  distaste. 

As  for  Jenny,  the  thing  now  uppermost  in  her 
heart  was  the  thought  that  he  was  unhappy.  It 
seemed  to  signify  little  that  a  mere  nobody  like 
herself  should  be  so ;  but  how  different  it  was 
with  this  godlike  creature  !  It  seemed  hard  beyond 
endurance  that  he  should  not  have  whatever  hap- 
piness it  was  that  he  desired. 

Struan  interrupted  her  thoughts  by  saying 
quietly  : 

"And  are  you  going  to  promise  to  be  my 
friend  ?  " 

An  impulse  seized  her.  Without  another 
thought,  she  raised  herself  on  tiptoe,  and  kissed 
his  cheek.  He  half  caught  her  to  him,  and  then, 
in  a  flash,  released  her,  and  she  slipped  away. 

"  That  was  sweet  of  you,  dear,"  she  heard  him 
say  reassuringly,  as  she  let  herself  out  of  the 
room. 


Ill 

POOR  Jenny  !  That  second's  impulsiveness 
cost  her  days  and  nights  of  suffering. 
What  would  he  think  of  her,  and  what 
had  made  her  do  it  ?  He  could  only  think  that 
she  was  vulgar  and  fast  and  ridiculously  conceited. 
Deeply  as  she  searched  her  mind,  she  could  find 
but  two  motives  for  this  impulsive  act, —  she  was 
sorry  and  she  was  affectionate.  These  two  feel- 
ings, which  his  words  to  her  had  quickened,  had 
led  to  a  sudden  act,  with  which  neither  thought 
nor  judgment  had  anything  to  do. 

But  this  he  did  not  know,  and  perhaps  he  might 
think  that  she  had  dared  —  !  She  couldn't  bring 
herself  to  put  it  into  words,  but  the  very  thought 
of  his  conceiving  her  to  be  guilty  of  such  an  as- 
sumption made  her  wretched  to  the  bottom  of  her 
soul. 

When  the  time  for  her  next  lesson  came,  she 
stayed  away.  She  felt  that  she  must  brace  herself 
to  go  on  with  her  purpose,  and,  after  this  one  in- 
terval, she  would  do  it ;  but  this  one  she  felt  to  be 
necessary. 

It  was  a  most  unhappy  morning ;  and,  when  the 

37 


3#  STRUAN 

usual  hour  had  come  and  gone,  she  began  to  re- 
pent what  she  had  done.  It  might  look  as  if  she 
imagined  that  he  would  attach  some  importance  to 
her  comings  and  goings. 

She  was  sitting  alone  in  her  little  boarding- 
house  bedroom,  feeling  very  desolate,  when  a 
servant  came  up  to  say  that  a  gentleman  wanted 
to  see  her.  She  knew  no  gentlemen,  and  never 
had  visitors.  Who  could  it  be  ?  Neither  card 
nor  name  had  been  sent  up.  A  thought  flashed 
through  her  mind,  but  she  rejected  it  as  impos- 
sible. A  person  so  great  and  important  had 
neither  the  time  nor  the  interest  to  take  this  long 
journey  up  town  for  the  sake  of  seeing  her.  It 
must  of  course  be  some  one  else. 

But  it  was  not  some  one  else.  It  was  Struan 
himself,  looking  peculiarly  out  of  place  in  the 
common  little  parlor,  which  his  vivid  personality 
seemed  somehow  to  transform  into  a  sort  of  dream 
place.  It  looked  totally  unlike  what  it  had 
seemed  before. 

He  came  to  meet  her  with  the  kindest  smile. 

"  You  poor,  imprisoned  birdling,  is  this  your 
cage  ?  "  he  said,  giving  her  his  hand,  and  bending 
on  her  a  glance  that  had  a  nameless  power  in  it. 
"  After  a  life  in  the  country,  such  a  place  must 
seem  intolerable.  It  makes  me  realize  the  pluck 


STRUAN  39 

you've  got."  Then,  with  a  change  of  tone  and 
an  intensifying  of  that  direct  gaze,  he  added  : 

"  Why  didn't  you  come  to  your  lesson  ?  I 
came  to  see  if  you  were  ill." 

"  No,  I'm  not  ill,"  she  said,  "  only  —  only  — 
lazy,"  she  ended,  after  floundering  for  a  word. 

"  Lazy  !  You  haven't  a  lazy  bone  in  you ! 
You  ought  to  have  said  c  only  foolish.'  But, 
whatever  it  was,  you  look  a  little  pale.  I'm  going 
to  take  advantage  of  this  lovely  spring  day,  and 
give  both  you  and  myself  a  holiday.  In  the  first 
place,  I'm  going  to  take  you  to  the  music  hall,  and 
try  your  voice.  It's  important,  just  at  this  point, 
to  do  that.  Afterward  we're  to  go  to  the  park. 
I've  announced  myself  off  for  the  day.  So  put  on 
your  hat." 

Jenny's  heart  throbbed  at  the  thought,  but  she 
stood  irresolute. 

He  saw  it,  and  said  quickly  : 

"  If  you  hesitate,  I  shall  think  that  you  distrust 
me." 

Then  she  went,  without  a  word. 

She  was  ready  in  a  very  few  minutes, —  a  vision 
of  lovely  youthfulness,  in  her  smart  spring  frock, 
with  a  pretty  jacket,  which  clothed  her  slight 
figure  as  if  lovingly.  Her  small  hat  had  a  pair 
of  bird's  wings  in  it,  set  apart,  like  a  Mercury's 
cap. 


40  STRUAN 

Still  feeling  herself  a  figure  in  a  vision,  she  got 
with  him  into  a  cab ;  and  they  were  driven  rapidly 
through  the  sunny  streets,  in  the  balmy  air  of 
early  spring-time. 

On  and  on  they  went,  through  streets  crowded 
with  business  and  others  crowded  with  fashion. 
Fifth  Avenue  was  swarming  with  carriages,  many 
of  them  open  and  filled  with  charmingly  dressed 
women.  Occasionally  they  would  pass  a  flower- 
shop  on  the  pavements,  in  front  of  which  long- 
housed  plants  were  blooming  and  swaying  in  the 
pleasant  air.  Most  conspicuous  among  these  was 
one  with  tall  branches  covered  with  a  feathery 
yellow  bloom  that  caught  the  sunshine  with  a 
radiant  glow.  The  vines  which  veined  the  stone 
or  brick  surfaces  of  the  houses  showed  in  a  thou- 
sand places  little  buttons  and  pufFs  of  green.  The 
windows  were  decorated  with  banks  of  grow- 
ing plants,  chiefly  many-colored  pansies,  riotous 
with  bloom.  Every  smart-looking  man  that  they 
passed  had  a  flower  in  his  buttonhole  ;  and  the 
lovely  women,  on  foot  and  in  carriages,  had 
bunches  of  jonquils  or  lilac  in  their  hands  or  fas- 
tened to  their  dresses. 

Jenny  felt  herself  a  part  of  it  all, —  one  of  the 
happy  dream-figures  which  the  coming  of  ordinary 
daylight  would  prove  to  be  unreal. 


STRUAN  4* 

After  a  while  their  cab  turned,  and  they  stopped 
before  the  entrance  to  the  big  music  hall. 

It  at  once  appeared  that  Struan  was  well  known 
here ;  and,  when  he  asked  to  be  allowed  to  go  into 
the  great  hall  to  try  this  young  lady's  voice,  per- 
mission was  immediately  given.  He  went  in 
front  of  her  along  the  dark  passage  that  led  to  the 
stage.  Once,  where  it  was  very  dark,  he  took 
her  hand  and  led  her.  She  felt,  in  his  touch  and 
in  his  guidance,  a  sense  of  safety  that  was  some- 
thing new  and  delicious  to  her. 

In  a  moment  the  darkness  was  passed,  and  they 
had  come  out  on  the  big  stage  and  were  facing 
the  vast  empty  room,  with  its  innumerable  seats 
below  and  its  tiers  of  boxes,  row  over  row,  above. 

It  seemed  to  Jenny  that  she  was  the  merest 
atom  of  humanity,  and  the  thought  of  singing  to 
that  immense  room  filled  with  critical  and  unsym- 
pathetic people  gave  her  a  prevision  of  stage-fright 
which  made  her  pale  and  tremble. 

"  Isn't  this  fine  ? "  said  Struan,  in  his  strong, 
firm  voice,  turning  to  look  about  him.  "  Most 
singers  say  they  feel  like  paying  for  the  privilege 
of  singing  in  this  hall.  How  does  my  little  singer 
feel  ?  " 

"  Oh,  frightened  !  "  said  Jenny,  tremulously, 
"  —  frightened  and  disheartened  and  depressed.  I 


42  STRUAN 

don't  believe  that  I  could  ever  sing  in  a  place  like 
this." 

"  I  still  have  hopes  that  you  may  not,  though  it 
seems  almost  useless  hoping  against  such  a  will  as 
yours.  As  for  the  fright,  however,  that  can  be 
overcome.  I  propose  now  to  go  and  stand  in  the 
centre  of  the  hall,  and  let  you  play  your  own  ac- 
companiment and  sing  to  me.  You  are  not  afraid 
of  such  an  audience  as  that,  are  you  ?  " 

"  No,  not  of  you,  but  of  the  place.  It's  so  big 
and  gloomy  and  unsympathetic." 

"  So  the  place  may  be,  but  the  audience  isn't, — 
at  least,  not  unsympathetic,  however  big  and 
gloomy.  But  here's  a  thought  to  encourage  you. 
You  will,  for  once,  be  singing  under  circum- 
stances in  which  the  entire  audience  is  your  de- 
voted friend.  That  ought  to  cheer  you  up. 
Come,  now,  shake  hands,  and  take  courage  !  " 

It  did  indeed  put  courage  into  her  to  feel  the 
grasp  of  his  warm,  strong  fingers.  She  turned  to 
the  piano  and  played  a  soft  prelude,  watching  his 
retreating  figure  as  it  lessened  down  the  great  cen- 
tral aisle.  The  absolute  silence  between  them, 
above  them,  all  about  them,  had  something  mys- 
terious in  it ;  and  the  thought  that  they  were  the 
only  beings  in  that  usually  crowded  place  gave  to 
each  a  like  sense  of  companionship  and  sympathy. 


STRUAN  43 

Supported  by  this  feeling,  Jenny  lifted  her  voice 
and  began  to  sing.  After  the  first  few  bars  her 
notes  were  clear  and  steady.  She  knew,  when 
she  ended,  that  she  had  given  a  fair  test  of  what  it 
was  possible  for  her  to  do.  She  realized  that  her 
voice  did  not  fill  the  hall ;  but  it  did  well  for  a 
mediocre  one,  so  she  told  herself. 

Struan  clapped  his  hands  gently ;  and,  as  he 
came  toward  her  down  the  aisle,  he  waved  her  a 
sign  of  encouragement.  When  he  was  at  her  side 
upon  the  stage,  he  said  cordially  : 

"  Very  good,  indeed  !  I  congratulate  you.  If 
you  want  that  engagement,  you  can  get  it  and  fill 
it.  There's  no  longer  any  doubt  about  that.  Do 
you  still  want  it  ?  " 

Jenny  bowed  her  head.  A  sudden  sense  of  de- 
pression had  seized  her  in  spite  of  her  success.  It 
was  unaccountable. 

"  More  than  you  want  anything  else  ? "  said 
Struan. 

"  More  than  I  want  anything  that  I'm  likely  to 
get." 

"  I  wonder  if  you  really  know  yourself." 

"  Absolutely.  Of  that  there  is  no  possible 
doubt." 

"  Yet  I  doubt  it.  But  sit  down  there,  on  the 
corner  of  the  director's  stand,  and  let  me  play  to 


44  STRUAN 

you  a  little.  I  have  never  played  to  you  yet, 
have  I  ?  " 

"  No.  I  have  often  longed  to  ask  you,  but 
I  did  not  feel  that  I  could  take  up  your  time." 

"  Nonsense  !  I've  never  been  so  busy  yet  but 
that  I  could  have  played  to  you.  However,  I'm 
going  to  do  it  now.  Remember,  I  am  not  a  great 
musician,  though  some  good  authorities  have  de- 
clared to  the  contrary.  Fortunately,  I  have 
known  my  limitations,  and  all  the  vast  amount  of 
work  and  study  which  I  have  put  into  it  have 
made  me  a  good  theorist  and  director.  My  play- 
ing, however,  is  no  better  than  may  be  met  with 
pretty  much  every  day.  Still,  I  am  not  without 
hope  that  I  can  play  so  as  to  please  you  now." 

Jenny  had  seated  herself  on  the  corner  of  the 
little  wooden  platform,  and  clasped  her  hands  about 
her  knees.  Struan  sat  down  on  the  piano-stool, 
and  began  to  play  very  softly. 

From  time  to  time  he  looked  at  her.  Once 
they  both  smiled,  not  mirthfully,  but  with  a  com- 
prehension of  the  unsaid  things  between  their 
two  minds.  Helped  by  the  music,  that  exchanged 
smile  told  each  that  there  was  much  in  the  heart 
of  the  other  which  would  like  to  utter  itself. 

Sometimes,  as  he  played  on,  he  bent  upon  her  a 
look  of  absorbed  contemplation,  the  subject  of 


STRUAN  45 

which  seemed  to  be  not  so  much  herself  as  a  cer- 
tain abstraction  of  her  which  he  had  in  his  mind. 
Then  again  he  would  look  at  her  quite  differently, 
until  she  felt  that,  when  their  eyes  met,  their 
thoughts  and  souls  met,  too. 

And  all  these  looks  that  passed  between  her 
eyes  and  his  were  accompanied  by  that  ebb  and 
flow  of  profoundly  beautiful  music.  He  played 
with  the  ease  of  a  master,  so  that  one  almost  lost 
sight  of  the  contact  between  the  player  and  the 
instrument,  and  could  imagine  that  he  expressed 
himself  as  if  with  another  voice.  He  scarcely 
looked  at  the  keys,  but  kept  his  eyes,  for  the 
most  part,  upon  Jenny,  who  sat  with  lowered  lids. 
Once,  mingling  with  a  harmony  of  deep,  sweet 
chords,  came  the  sound  of  his  voice. 

"  Jenny,"  he  said  distinctly. 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  his. 

The  music  ceased. 

"  I  was  thinking,"  he  said,  "  how  often  I  had 
stood  upon  that  little  dais,  directing  an  orchestra, 
and  that  every  time  I  did  so,  in  the  future,  I 
should  seem  to  see  you  sitting  there,  just  on  that 
left-hand  corner,  as  you  are  doing  now.  Where 
will  you  be  then,  I  wonder  ?  " 

A  gush  of  sadness,  sweeping  across  her  heart, 
made  Jenny  spring  suddenly  to  her  feet,  possessed 


46  STRUAN 

by  a  sense  of  fear  which  she  did  not  herself  under- 
stand. 

He  got  up,  too,  and  closed  the  piano. 

"My  dismal  playing  has  made  you  sad,"  he 
said.  "  Come,  we  will  go  now.  This  little  play 
is  played  out." 

They  both  laughed,  with  a  sense  of  relief  at 
having  the  strain  broken.  As  they  returned 
through  the  long  dark  passage,  he  did  not  again 
give  her  his  hand,  but  said  merely  : 

"  You  know  your  way  back,  don't  you  ?  " 

And  she  answered  : 

"  Yes,  perfectly,"  and  that  instant  stumbled, 
and  would  have  fallen  if  he  had  not  caught  her. 
At  this  they  both  laughed  again,  and  so  emerged 
into  the  bright  light  of  day. 

When  they  were  in  the  cab,  he  gave  orders  that 
they  should  be  driven  to  the  entrance  of  the  park. 

As  they  were  going  along,  Jenny  said  : 

"  I  haven't  thanked  you  for  your  playing  or  told 
you  how  I  enjoyed  it." 

"  No,  by  the  way,  so  you  haven't !  I  hadn't 
noticed  the  omission.  Pray  proceed." 

Jenny  laughed  and  blushed,  and  said  nothing. 

"  I  am  waiting,"  said  Struan. 

"  How  absurd  !  "  said  Jenny.  "  Nothing  is 
more  stupid  than  to  try  to  express  yourself  in 


STRUAN  47 

words  to  some  one  who  understands  much  better 
without  them." 

"  Profoundly  true,  and  on  that  principle  I  have 
not  tried  to  thank  you  for  your  song." 

"  Oh,  my  singing  !  "  said  Jenny,  airily.  "  That 
sort  of  thing  can  be  nothing  to  you.  It's  enough 
if  you  put  up  with  it." 

"  You  are  wrong,"  said  Struan,  gravely.  "  I 
should  love  it  much  under  circumstances  which  I 
can  imagine,  but  these  circumstances  are  not  rep- 
resented by  the  stage.  I'll  tell  you  this  for  your 
comfort,  however.  If  I  could  succeed  in  separat- 
ing your  voice  from  you,  I  should  be  heartily 
charmed  with  it  on  the  stage." 

Jenny  felt,  in  her  heart,  that  this  commendation 
was  even  more  than  she  could  have  asked. 

They  drove  on  after  this  in  silence,  until  they 
reached  the  entrance  to  the  park.  There  Struan 
stopped  the  cab  and  dismissed  the  driver. 

"  You  would  not  believe  that  there  are  quiet, 
sheltered  spots  in  this  great  public  place,  would 
you  ?  "  he  said,  as  they  walked  along.  "  There 
are,  however ;  and  I  propose  to  show  them  to 
you." 

Very  often,  in  their  passage  through  the  crowd, 
people  bowed  to  him.  Sometimes  these  were  men 
on  foot  or  on  horseback,  and  sometimes  charming 


48  STRUAN 

women,  in  carriages.  Jenny  thought  she  per- 
ceived an  unusual  cordiality  in  these  glances,  as 
though  his  friends  were  really  glad  to  see  him. 
Then  it  occurred  to  her  that  it  might  only  be  a 
reflection  of  the  cordiality  with  which  he  greeted 
them.  She  had  never  seen  a  man  whose  face  and 
manner  so  expressed  good  will. 

When  they  had  gone  further  yet,  past  the  great 
metal  beast  couchant  in  the  leafless  bushes,  past 
the  lake  and  the  boat-house,  and  out  of  sight  of 
the  prying  eye  of  Cleopatra's  Needle,  they  turned 
into  a  side  path,  where  the  breath  of  spring-time 
pervaded  the  air,  unmingled  with  the  scent  of  dust 
and  crowds.  Farther  away  from  houses  and 
people  did  they  go,  and  nearer  to  hillsides  and 
verdure,  until  they  were  in  a  spot  shut  off  from 
outside  observation.  Here  on  a  sloping  bank, 
under  tall  trees,  Struan  paused. 

"  We  will  sit  down  awhile  if  you  please,"  he 
said.  "  Isn't  it  quiet  and  country-like  and  sweet 
here  ? " 

"  Delicious,"  said  Jenny,  as  she  accepted  the 
seat  which  he  had  made  for  her  by  folding  the 
light  overcoat  which  he  had  carried  on  his  arm, 
and  placing  it  at  the  foot  of  a  large  tree. 

"  Are  you  comfortable  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  at 
her  with  a  smile  of  pleasant  consciousness,  as  he 


STRUAN  49 

seated  himself  on  the  grass,  a  little  lower  down 
the  slope  of  the  hillside. 

"  Perfectly,  except  about  you.  I  am  afraid  you 
will  take  cold,  sitting  on  the  ground." 

"It's  quite  dry,  I  assure  you;  and,  besides,  I 
never  take  cold.  I  have  the  most  indomitable 
health.  Nothing  seems  to  hurt  me.  I  suffer 
from  sleeplessness  at  times,  and  my  nerves  get  all 
awry,  but  never  anything  more  than  that.  May  I 
light  a  cigar  ?  " 

As  Jenny  acquiesced  and  sat  watching  him,  she 
became  aware  that  a  certain  change  had  come  over 
him.  His  manner  had  lost  its  friendly  familiar- 
ity. It  was  reserved,  and  almost  cold.  When  he 
had  smoked  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes,  he 
looked  at  his  watch. 

"  We  have  a  good  hour  yet,"  he  said,  "  before 
it  will  be  necessary  for  us  to  leave,  in  time  to  get 
you  across  your  threshold  in  broad  daylight.  I 
left  word  that  I  was  to  be  absent  all  day,  so  I  am 
free  of  engagements.  You  are  willing  to  sit  here 
with  me  for  an  hour,  are  you  not  ? " 

"  Willing  !  "  exclaimed  Jenny,  with  a  sort  of 
reproach  in  her  voice.  She  was  surely  a  naive 
creature,  and  her  naturalness  was  the  very  quality 
to  make  the  strongest  possible  appeal  to  Struan. 
So  he  looked  at  her  now  with  a  smile  as  spon- 
taneous as  her  tone  had  been,  and  said  : 


50  STRUAN 

"  I  wonder  if  you  know  how  unlike  other 
people  you  are,  and  how  the  very  fact  refreshes 
me." 

Jenny  blushed  with  pleasure. 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  am,"  she  said  ;  "  and,  so 
long  as  you  like  me,  I  don't  care." 

The  bluntness  of  the  avowal  evidently  did  not 
displease  him. 

"  We  are  friends,  real  friends,"  he  said  kindly, 
"  are  we  not  ?  " 

u  Oh,  yes  !  oh,  yes  !  If  you  will  let  me  be," 
said  Jenny,  clasping  his  proffered  hand  in  both  her 
own. 

"  Let  you,  my  child  !  I  want  you,  I  need  you 
for  my  friend.  You  are  a  trustful,  confiding 
creature,  who  may  need  my  friendship  ;  and  it  shall 
not  fail.  I  hate  to  say  it,  but  I  fear  that  life  will 
prove  to  you  that  you  are  too  trustful." 

"  You  are  wrong,"  she  said  quickly,  dropping 
his  hand.  "  I  am  not  so  to  every  one.  I  can 
take  care  of  myself  better  than  you  imagine. 
But  with  you  I  could  never  feel  anything  but  ab- 
solute trust." 

"  I  must  see  to  it  that  you  have  no  reason  to 
regret  it,"  he  said,  "  the  more  so  as  your  knowl- 
edge of  me  is,  I  suppose,  extremely  limited.  I 
wonder  how  much  you  do  really  know,"  he 
added  with  a  smile. 


STRUAN  51 

"  I  know  enough.  I  know  everything,"  she 
said  impulsively,  "  in  knowing  you  as  you  are." 

"  My  child,  you  know  little,  too  little,  to  rest 
any  reasonable  trust  upon ;  and  so  all  the  world 
would  tell  you.  You  have  a  habit,  I  see,  of  trust- 
ing your  intuitions.  It  will  not  always  do.  But 
tell  me  this.  What  do  you  know  of  my  life,  my 
circumstances,  my  family  ties, —  anything  at  all  ?  " 

"  Very  little,"  she  said.  u  I  found  out  years 
ago  that  you  were  married  and  had  a  son, —  that 
was  when  I  first  knew  about  you.  I  have  never 
heard  anything  since." 

"  You  didn't  know,  then,  that  my  wife  was 
dead  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,"  said  Jenny,  quietly,  as  if  the  matter  did 
not  deeply  concern  her.  She  had,  in  fact,  never 
thought  or  cared  whether  he  was  married  or  un- 
married. She  only  wanted  him  as  a  divinity  to 
worship ;  and  he  answered  that  purpose  equally 
well,  either  way.  Of  course,  it  went  without  say- 
ing, in  her  candid  little  heart,  that  she  would  have 
married  him  with  rapture  if  she  had  had  the  op- 
portunity ;  but  it  had  never  crossed  her  mind  that 
such  a  thing  was  possible  to  her  humble  life. 

In  the  silence  that  followed  her  last  word,  she 
felt  that  Struan  looked  away  from  her.  So  she 
bent  her  eyes  upon  his  face,  and  was  impressed 


52  STRUAN 

anew  with  its  look  of  sadness.  Instantly  a  throb 
of  sympathy  thrilled  to  her  heart.  It  was,  per- 
haps, grief  for  the  loss  of  his  wife  that  made  his 
face  look  so. 

"  Oh,  I  am  sorry  for  you  !  I  do  pity  you,"  she 
said  fervently. 

Instead  of  softening  under  her  look  and  tone 
of  melting  sympathy,  his  face  seemed  to  harden. 
She  could  not  understand  it,  but  she  went  on  in 
much  the  same  tone.  "  I  might  have  known  that 
you  had  had  some  great  sorrow  in  your  life,"  she 
said.  "  I  did  know  it.  I  have  felt  it  since  the 
first  moment  I  saw  you." 

A  slight  frown  gathered  on  her  companion's 
face. 

"  You  misunderstand,"  he  said  hastily,  as  if  to 
prevent  her  going  on.  "  I  have  had  great  sorrow 
in  my  life,  but  it  is  not  what  you  suppose." 

"  I  know  nothing.  I  do  not  ask  to  know.  I 
have  not  even  the  right  to  suppose  at  all.  Only 
it  seems  to  me  that  the  worst  troubles  only  come 
into  people's  lives  through  marriage." 

"  You  are  very  near  the  truth  there,  I  think," 
he  answered ;  "  and  it  has  been  through  marriage 
that  my  worst  trouble  has  come." 

Jenny  was  silent  a  moment.  Then  she  said  in 
her  simple,  blunt  way, — 


STRUAN  53 

"  I  don't  understand." 

"  Of  course  not.      How  should  you  ?  " 

There  was  a  certain  wistfulness  in  his  voice,  a 
certain  hesitation,  as  if  he  dallied  with  an  idea 
which  had  a  temptation  for  him.  While  this 
dubiousness  was  in  his  heart  and  in  his  eyes, 
Jenny's  voice  said  with  a  frank  alluringness  : 

"  Tell  me  about  it." 

He  started  slightly. 

"Tell  you  about  it!"  he  said.  "Why  should 
I?" 

"  Because  I  am  your  friend,"  she  said.  "  Why 
should  you  not  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  thing  I  have  never  spoken  of  to  any 
human  soul." 

"  Why  ? "  she  said  with  a  direct  abruptness 
very  characteristic  of  her. 

"  Because  I  have  never  felt  that  I  could  speak 
of  it  to  any  one." 

"  But  you  feel  so  now,"  she  said  with  convic- 
tion. 

Both  words  and  manner  startled  him.  They 
were  so  absolutely  the  expression  of  what  he  felt 
within  him, —  a  sudden,  strong  possession  by  a 
totally  new  impulse  and  desire. 

He  was  aware  of  a  great  longing  to  utter  to 
this  girl  the  secrets  so  long  locked  tight  within  his 


54  STRUAN 

breast, —  to  knock  down  barriers,  as  with  a  sud- 
den, irresistible  impetus,  and  lay  bare  to  her  eyes 
the  thoughts  and  feelings  he  had  shared  with 
none.  Her  absolute  unconventionality,  her  ig- 
norance of  life  and  the  forms  of  the  world,  at- 
tracted him  powerfully.  The  pure  nature  of  her, 
the  simplicity  which  made  her  say,  "  Why  should 
you  not  ? "  impelled  him  to  echo  her  question. 

"  Why  should  I  not  ? "  he  said  aloud,  with  a 
certain  eagerness  in  his  voice ;  and  the  next  in- 
stant he  added,  "  I  will !  " 

She  waited  expectantly,  but  he  did  not  speak  at 
once. 

Presently  he  said  : 

"  You  will  not  think  me  presumptuous  to  as- 
sume that  you  will  be  interested  in  my  long  story  ? 
It  will  not  bore  you  ?  " 

Jenny's  direct  gaze  seemed  to  concentrate,  until 
it  looked  him  through  and  through. 

"Aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself?"  she  said. 

The  question  searched  for  his  inmost  conscious- 
ness, and  found  it. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  almost  humbly,  "  I  am."  Then 
he  added,  "  Shall  I  tell  you  the  plain,  unvarnished 
truth  ? " 

She  made  an  impatient  gesture,  as  if  begging 
him  to  hurry. 


STRUAN  55 

" 1  was  scarcely  more  than  a  boy  when  I  mar- 
ried," he  said.  "  That  may  have  had  something 
to  do  with  it,  but  not  much.  We  were  both  too 
young  to  know  our  own  minds,  and  I  had  just  the 
temperament  to  make  a  fatal  mistake  in  marriage. 
Why  she  married  me,  poor  girl,  I  do  not  to  this 
day  understand ;  for,  although  she  had  a  certain 
affection  for  me,  she  never  loved  me.  Possibly, 
she  was  not  aware  of  this  fact  till  she  made  the 
discovery  after  marriage,  when  I  made  it,  also.  I 
was  very  young,  and,  at  first,  was  totally  unable 
to  account  for  the  unhappiness  in  which  we  both 
found  ourselves  plunged.  Now,  after  twenty 
years  more  experience  of  life,  I  understand  the 
matter  better.  I  was  passionate,  romantic,  im- 
pulsive ;  and  I  had  believed  that  I  loved  this 
woman  supremely,  and  should  get  from  her  an 
equal  return  of  the  intense  feeling  which  I  had 
to  offer  her.  Before  long,  however,  I  found  that 
she  was  absolutely  incapable  of  it, —  that  her 
nature  was  the  very  opposite  of  mine.  We  lived 
on  in  misery  and  misapprehension  of  one  another 
year  after  year.  It  was  within  the  first  year 
of  our  marriage  that  our  only  child  was  born, 
and  on  this  boy  both  our  hearts  became  fixed. 
I  soon  proved  anew  the  radical  difference  of 
our  natures.  While  to  me  it  seemed,  as  it  ever 


56  STRUAN 

must,  that  the  love  of  father  for  child  is  a  second- 
ary and  inferior  thing  to  the  love  of  husband  for 
wife,  to  her  it  was  evident  that  maternity  was  the 
supreme  feeling.  She  lavished  upon  this  child  the 
devotion  and  the  endearments  for  which  I  had 
been  starved,  though  even  before  the  baby's  birth  I 
had  been  thrust  back  upon  myself  so  persistently 
that  my  love  had  greatly  cooled.  This,  instead  of 
grieving  her,  was  so  manifestly  to  her  taste  that 
pride  came  in,  and  rendered  me  colder  still.  Life 
was  almost  intolerable  on  these  conditions.  I 
was  too  young  to  accept  willingly  the  idea  of  re- 
nunciation. I  thirsted  for  the  fulness  of  life,  and 
it  seemed  to  me  that  fate  had  miserably  duped  me. 
After  long  struggling  with  the  hardness  of  the 
conditions  about  me,  I  spoke  to  her  about  getting 
a  divorce." 

As  he  uttered  the  last  word,  he  looked  at  his 
companion,  to  judge  of  its  effect  on  her. 

"  Well,"  she  said  impatiently,  "  go  on." 

"The  idea  of  divorce,  then,  does  not  shock 
you, —  does  not  go  against  your  feeling  of  right  ? 
I  should  like  to  know  your  judgment  on  this 
point." 

"  Oh,  what  does  that  matter  ?  "  she  said,  impa- 
tient of  the  interruption.  "  I  have  never  thought 
about  the  question.  I've  never  had  to.  But  I 


STRUAN  57 

can  tell  you  this.  It  doesn't  go  against  my  feel- 
ing of  right  as  much  as  marriage  without  love 
does,  I  don't  care  what  anybody  says !  I  know 
that  to  be  wrong  from  my  own  heart  and  soul,  or 
whatever  the  highest  part  of  me  is." 

Struan  looked  at  her  with  undisguised  pleasure 
in  his  eyes. 

"  It's  a  rare  thing,"  he  said,  "  to  talk  to  a 
woman  who  has  the  courage  of  her  opinions,  and 
a  still  rarer  thing  to  find  one  whose  opinions  are 
of  her  own  making,  as  yours  evidently  are." 

He  paused,  arrested  by  the  fact  that  Jenny  was 
not  interested  in  what  he  was  saying  and  scarcely 
restrained  her  impatience  for  him  to  return  to  his 
story. 

"  What  did  she  say  to  the  divorce  ?  "  she  asked 
eagerly. 

"  I  can  hardly  describe  to  you  her  absolute  ter- 
ror at  such  an  idea.  It  was  something  pitiable  to 
see.  She  sobbed,  and  pleaded  with  me  far  more 
passionately,  I  am  sure,  than  she  would  have  done 
for  her  life.  She  declared  that  she  could  not  and 
would  not  bear  it,  that  she  would  kill  both  herself 
and  the  child  first.  Of  course,  under  these  condi- 
tions, I  could  not  have  got  a  divorce,  even  if  I 
would ;  and  I  no  longer  entertained  the  idea.  She 
was  very  delicate,  poor  thing ;  and  I  could  not 


58  STRUAN 

have  had  the  cruelty  to  persist  in  a  thought  which 
so  tortured  her. 

"  Afterward  I  made  an  effort  to  find  out  the 
real  secret  of  her  abject  terror  of  the  divorce  idea. 
Much  of  it,  I  found,  was  what  is  called,  in  relig- 
ious parlance,  '  human  respect.'  Her  dread  of  the 
world  and  its  comments  was  in  direct  proportion 
to  my  indifference  to  it.  Well,  at  all  events,  I 
had  to  give  it  up,"  he  said,  shifting  his  position, 
and  drawing  a  deep  sigh,  while  at  the  same  time 
he  pushed  his  hat  back  a  little  from  his  forehead, 
as  if  the  constraint  of  it  hampered  him  in  the  free- 
dom of  this  talk. 

"  And  your  son  ?  "  said  Jenny,  as  if  afraid  of 
his  lapsing  into  silence, —  "  what  of  your  son  ?  " 

Surely  there  was  something  in  the  heart  of 
Lucien  Struan  akin  to  the  sunshine.  His  face 
was  capable  of  expressing  a  radiance  that  was  al- 
most startling.  Jenny  had  never  seen  that  look 
upon  his  face  before ;  but  now,  on  seeing  it,  she 
answered  it  with  a  laugh. 

"  Ah,  how  you  love   him  !  "  she  said  ardently. 

"  Ah,  how  you  understand  me  !  "  he  answered, 
as  if  in  gratitude.  "  I  have  had  a  miserably  de- 
prived and  disappointed  life,"  he  went  on.  "  It 
is  a  relief  to  admit  it  in  words  at  last.  I  have 
been  thwarted  in  all  the  strongest  impulses  of  my 


STRUAN  59 

nature,  denied  in  all  the  tenderest  desires  of  my 
heart,  except  in  one  thing  only, —  where  that  boy 
of  mine  is  concerned.  There  I  have  had  fulfil- 
ment, fruition,  satisfaction." 

"  Tell  me  about  him,"  said  Jenny,  simply  as  a 
child  listening  to  a  story. 

"  His  name  is  Leonard." 

"  Leonard  !  "  she  said,  as  if  testing  the  sound, 
«  I  like  it." 

"  He  is  nineteen  years  old.  Think  of  it !  Al- 
most as  old  as  when  I  made  that  marriage,  so  fatal 
to  us  both ;  for  she,  poor  woman,  suffered  much  as 
well.  And,  in  addition  to  her  sorrow  and  regret, 
she  had  permanent,  chronic  ill-health,  while  I  was 
unconscious  of  what  illness  meant.  I  want  never 
to  forget  that.  I  am  sure  that  to  this  cause  was 
due  the  change  which  took  place  in  her  feelings 
toward  Leonard.  When  he  grew  out  of  baby- 
hood, he  soon  manifested  a  great  devotion  to  me; 
and,  as  he  was  very  strong  and  very  intelligent,  I 
was  able  to  take  him  into  my  life  a  great  deal,  and 
have  him  much  about  me.  Perhaps  his  evident 
preference  for  my  company  hurt  his  poor  mother, 
or  perhaps  the  increased  nervous  strain  of  her  long 
illness  made  her  impatient  of  a  child's  noise  and 
restlessness.  Whatever  it  was,  she  changed 
toward  him ;  and  a  sister  who  lived  with  her 


60  STRUAN 

came,  in  time,  almost  to  take  a  mother's  place  to 
him.  The  boy  seemed  to  fret  and  worry  her,  and 
she  was  evidently  relieved  when  I  suggested  send- 
ing him  off  to  school.  After  that  he  only  saw  her 
occasionally,  as  she  grew  more  and  more  delicate 
and  nervous  ;  and  it  was  with  her  entire  consent 
that  three  years  ago  I  sent  him  abroad  to  the 
school  where  I  had  been." 

"  And  he  is  there  now  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  went  over  last  summer,  and  we 
travelled  together  for  a  month  or  so.  He  is  a 
glorious  young  being,"  he  said  ardently.  And 
it  was  in  the  same  tone  that  Jenny  answered  : 

"  Oh,  he  must  be,  for  you  to  love  him  so  !  " 

Struan  felt  a  strange  sense  of  comfort.  His 
companion's  sympathy  enclosed  him  like  an  at- 
mosphere. 

"  Even  to  you,"  he  went  on  presently,  "  I  can- 
not tell  the  wretchedness  of  those  years  of  mar- 
riage,—  a  marriage  that  was  no  marriage,  its 
whole  basis  and  structure  being  false.  Poor 
Rachel !  She  never,  even  in  dreams,  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  feeling  upon  which  real  marriage 
rests.  For  a  while  I  sank  into  the  hopeless  belief 
that  the  feminine  nature  could  never  comprehend 
or  respond  to  the  masculine,  and  that  all  women 
were  like  her.  It  was  a  dangerous  hour  for  me 
when  I  found  out  my  mistake." 


STRUAN  61 

He  tossed  away  the  end  of  his  cigar,  and  drew 
himself  into  a  more  upright  position. 

"  I  was  rescued  from  that  danger,  however,"  he 
went  on,  "  and  from  others  which  followed  it. 
My  fatal  mistake  was  in  marrying  so  young,  be- 
fore I  could  know  what  I  wanted  or  could  judge 
what  a  woman  was  able  to  give.  I  was  meant  for 
marriage  and  domestic  life.  I  could  have  been 
happy  in  it ;  and,  more  than  that,  I  could  have 
given  happiness.  The  realization  that  I  was  cut 
off  from  it  completely  has  been  the  regret,  the 
pain,  the  tragedy,  of  my  life." 

"  Great  heavens  !  "  said  Jenny,  locking  her  hands 
together  tight,  and  pressing  them,  so  clenched, 
hard  against  her  breast.  "  You  say  I  understand 
you  ;  and  so,  up  to  a  certain  point,  I  did  :  but  not 
now.  I  fail  utterly  to  comprehend  such  a  course 
in  man  or  in  woman." 

"  What  course  ?      What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Why,  letting  yourself  be  cut  off  from  happi- 
ness, submitting  yourself  to  any  conditions  that  did 
cut  you  off  from  it.  Great  heavens  !  "  she  said 
again,  and  this  time  with  an  inflection  as  of  scorn. 
"  If  /  had  a  chance  of  happiness,  such  happiness  as 
it  is  in  you  to  command,  I'd  have  it ;  and  I'd  pay 
the  cost." 

Struan  looked  at  her  with  intense  interest.      He 


62  STRUAN 

felt  that  here  was  a  woman  who  was  revealing  her 
very  inmost  self.  It  was  a  rare  insight  for  a  man 
to  have ;  and  it  whipped  up  strangely  his  zest  for 
the  investigation  of  the  life-motives  and  heart- 
problems  which  had  always  so  interested  him,  an 
interest  which,  of  late  years,  had  begun  to  flag. 
The  reason  for  this  was,  in  great  part,  because  of 
the  conventionality  which  made  most  men  and 
women  strive  to  realize  what  was  demanded  by 
the  world  without  them  rather  than  the  soul 
within  them.  Here,  he  felt,  was  an  exception  to 
this  rule.  This  knowledge  was  intensely  precious 
to  the  psychic  consciousness  which  was  so  large 
an  element  in  him ;  and  the  fire  in  his  eyes  now,  as 
he  sat  upright  and  looked  at  Jenny,  was  kindled 
by  this  feeling  more  than  by  any  other. 

There  was  fire  in  the  eyes  of  Jenny,  too,  from 
whatever  cause  it  came. 

"  I  have  no  regrets  of  that  sort  in  my  life,  thank 
heaven  !  "  she  said.  "  I  have  nothing  to  reproach 
myself  with,  because  I've  never  had  any  chance. 
But  you  !  Great  heavens !  —  what  you  might  have 
had  !  —  what  you  have  missed  !  " 

Her  words  and  looks  worked  on  him  strongly, 
quickening  into  keener  life  the  sense  of  loss,  de- 
nial, deprivation,  which  had  so  become  a  habit  with 
him  that  he  was  usually  unconscious  of  it. 


STRUAN  63 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  might  have  had  it ;  and  I 
have  missed  it." 

"  I  would  have  had  it.  /would  not  have  missed 
it.  And,  in  your  place,  I  would  have  it  yet." 

The  fervor  of  her  spirit  heightened  mysteriously 
the  beauty  of  her  face  and  figure.  She  looked  the 
very  epitome  of  youthful  fire  and  feeling,  bound 
up  in  an  outward  form  of  such  charming  hues 
and  curves  as  brought  to  Struan's  heart  once  more 
a  sweet  and  sudden  breath  of  the  wild  freshness  of 
morning. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  said  eagerly, — "  tell  me  what 
you  would  have  done.  Tell  me  what  you  would 
do." 

"  What  I  would  have  done  ?  I  would  have 
broken  those  shackles  that  bound  me  to  a  being 
who  was  not  my  mate  !  I  would  have  felt  that  I 
degraded  her  and  degraded  myself  in  preserving 
such  a  bond  !  " 

"  And  what  of  the  comments  of  the  world  ?  " 
he  said. 

He  was  studying  her  with  an  acute  interest,  and 
he  awaited  almost  breathlessly  her  answer  to  his 
questions. 

"  The  world  ?  Pooh  !  "  she  said  with  an  ac- 
cent of  scorn.  "  What  does  the  world  care  for 
me  ?  As  little  as  I  care  for  it !  " 


64  STRUAN 

There  was  something  in  this  point  of  view 
which  made  a  strong  appeal  to  him.  It  was  so 
great  a  contrast  to  that  of  his  wife.  He  knew 
that  the  strained  conditions  of  their  marriage  had 
weighed  like  lead  upon  her, —  that  she  would 
gladly  have  been  free  and  given  him  his  freedom 
but  for  the  all-importance  of  this  factor  of  the 
world's  criticism. 

"  But  you  are  putting  yourself  in  my  place,  re- 
member," he  said  in  answer  to  her  last  words. 
"  I  could  not  pretend  to  the  obscurity  which  is  so 
often  a  boon.  I  had  put  myself  in  a  public  posi- 
tion before  the  world,  and  so  challenged  its  atten- 
tion. I  was  well  known,  and  the  fact  has  a  cer- 
tain responsibility  with  it.  How  then  ?  " 

"The  same!"  she  said,  looking  him  bravely  in 
the  eyes.  "Were  I  like  you,  nothing, —  nothing 
should  deprive  me  of  my  heritage  of  joy  ;  and  I 
mean  by  that  joy  in  love." 

She  said  it  unblushingly  ;  and  the  contrast  with 
the  woman  who  had  despised  love  as  low  and 
lowering,  and  with  whom  he  had  for  years  com- 
batted  that  idea  in  vain,  made  a  strong  appeal  to 
him. 

"  But  it's  useless,"  she  went  on,  a  faint,  faint 
tremor  in  her  voice,  which  some  subtle  compre- 
hension conveyed  to  his  soul  rather  than  to  his 


STRUAN  65 

ears.  "  I  cannot  put  myself  in  your  place.  You 
are  a  man,  and  must  look  to  your  career.  I  am  a 
woman,  and  a  woman's  career  is  love." 

The  words  thrilled  him,  spoken  with  the  cour- 
age and  the  fervor  that  sounded  in  the  voice  of 
this  beautiful  young  thing;  for  in  this  moment 
Jenny  looked  no  less  than  beautiful. 

"  Then  you  value  personal  joy  more  than  gen- 
eral good  ?  "  he  asked,  half-smiling. 

"  I  value  love  beyond  everything,"  she  said. 

Strange  how  that  reckless,  ruthless  answer 
pleased  him  !  He  had  fancied  that  the  question, 
so  put,  would  perhaps  force  her  into  a  conven- 
tional answer.  And,  when  she  answered  as  she 
did,  he  gave  a  little  laugh,  as  if  he  revelled  in  the 
courage  of  her. 

The  sound  of  that  laugh  recalled  him  to  him- 
self. He  realized  that  he  had  been  strangely  off 
his  guard.  He  shifted  his  position,  moving  down- 
ward on  the  grass,  so  as  to  be  a  little  below  her 
and  further  away ;  and  he  turned  so  that  only  his 
profile  was  toward  her. 

For  some  minutes  he  sat  so,  looking  before  him 
in  silence.  He  had  taken  off  his  hat ;  and  his 
hair,  dark  and  short,  was  a  little  dishevelled.  His 
deep-set  eyes  had  an  alert,  keen-visioned  look, 
which  gave  to  his  face  an  expression  of  intense 


66  STRUAN 

vitality.  His  nose,  straight,  strong,  and  rather 
short,  showed  a  slight  distention  of  the  nostril ; 
and  his  jaw  was  set  in  a  way  that  made  his  lower 
lip  protrude  a  trifle  beyond  the  upper.  His 
mouth  was  firmly  compressed  under  the  short 
dark  mustache.  His  whole  expression  and  atti- 
tude indicated  an  excited  self-control. 

Jenny  looked  at  him ;  and,  as  she  looked,  she 
worshipped.  It  was  an  old  feeling  with  her  now. 
She  had  worshipped  him  for  years,  before  she  ever 
saw  him ;  and  sight  and  knowledge  of  him  had 
vastly  added  to  this  feeling.  But  now,  to-day, 
something  new  was  stirring  in  her  breast, —  a 
thing  that  made  her  pulse-beats  fast  and  her 
breathing  thick,  and  seemed  to  stretch  and  ex- 
pand her  heart  with  a  sweet,  delicious  ache.  She 
sat  still  and  acquiescent,  giving  herself  up  to  this 
new  and  poignant  feeling,  offering  no  barriers  of 
question  or  doubt  to  its  entering  in  and  taking  full 
possession  of  her. 

He  was  not  looking  at  her.  Perhaps  it  would 
have  made  no  difference  if  he  had  been.  Her 
eyes  were  as  free  and  willing  as  her  spirit.  She 
had  no  thought  of  forbidding  them  to  look  what 
she  felt.  The  sweet,  bewildering  pain  that  had 
possession  of  her  was  something  she  had  never 
felt  before ;  but  every  pulse  and  nerve  within  her 
yielded  to  it,  wooed  it,  rejoiced  in  it. 


STRUAN  67 

Unconscious  of  her  fervid  gaze,  the  tension  of 
Struan's  face  seemed  every  second  to  increase. 
There  was  evidently  some  strong  feeling  at  work 
in  him,  and  he  felt  the  necessity  of  constraint  as 
Jenny  felt  the  instinct  of  freedom. 

Those  few  moments  seemed  a  long,  long  while 
that  he  forbade  himself  to  look  at  Jenny,  and  she 
indulged  herself  in  looking  to  the  full  at  him. 

She  looked  intently,  scrutinizingly,  piercingly, 
as  it  were,  noting  every  detail,  in  the  actual  hun- 
ger of  her  gaze.  The  dark  hair,  sprinkled  with 
gray ;  the  broad  brow,  lined  with  many  a  mark  of 
care  j  the  lowered  eyes,  rigidly  fixed  and  con- 
trolled ;  the  firm  nose,  with  the  nostril  that  yet 
trembled  slightly ;  the  set  lips,  that  yet  faintly 
quivered  ;  the  strong  jaw,  so  compressed  that  the 
strained  muscles  within  moved  under  the  flesh  as 
the  locked  teeth  were  pressed  together  harder 
and  harder, —  all  these  she  saw  with  a  mingling 
of  love  and  longing  that  suddenly  escaped  her  in 
a  little  cry. 

It  was  no  articulate  word ;  but  no  word  ever 
invented  by  man  could  have  so  expressed  her,  so 
uttered  the  passion  in  her  heart,  so  matched  ti)^ 
fire  of  her  gaze. 

Its  effect  upon  Struan  was  as  if  electric.  He 
sprang  to  his  feet ;  and,  as  if  by  one  impulse,  she 


68  STRUAN 

was  standing,  too.  And  so  they  looked  at  each 
other  face  to  face. 

Away  with  shackles  then  !  His  eyes  had  got 
free  in  a  twinkling,  and  they  met  and  reflected 
hers,  which,  by  the  reflection  of  his,  glowed  ever 
brighter  and  bolder.  But  his  hands,  stretched 
straight  and  rigid  at  his  side,  still  answered  to 
what  remained  to  him  of  purpose  and  control. 

The  next  instant  Jenny  had  reached  forth  and 
caught  them  in  her  own  ;  and,  at  the  softness  of 
her  touch,  they  softened,  too,  and  let  themselves  be 
clasped  and  pressed.  She  would  have  drawn  him 
closer ;  but  there  was  a  vestige  of  resistance  left, 
and  he  hardened  his  muscles  to  remain  where  he 
was. 

She  seemed  to  understand  the  effort ;  but  it  only 
made  her  laugh, —  a  gay,  bewildering  laugh,  that 
showed  her  red  lips  parted  and  her  dazzling  teeth. 

"  What's  the  use  ? "  she  said,  and  gently  tried 
again  to  draw  him  to  her. 

Physically  she  was  weak  as  a  child  compared  to 
him ;  but  he  felt  himself  yielding,  and  moved 
toward  her  a  short  step  or  two. 

"  You  know  the  truth,"  she  said,  her  radiant 
face  so  close  beneath  his  own  that  he  felt  her 
whispered  breath  upon  his  cheek. 

"  What  ?  "  he  said,  as  one  bewildered. 


STRUAN  69 

"  That  we  love  each  other." 

At  the  words  the  light  that  burned  within  his 
eyes  flared  up  and  blazed  upon  her.  She  could  not 
bear  the  radiance  of  it.  It  was  too  insupportably 
sweet.  She  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and 
closed  her  dazzled  eyes  against  his  throat. 

The  next  instant  all  had  changed.  She  was 
resting  upon  him,  weak  and  pliant,  while  over  her 
face,  her  eyes,  her  lips,  his  kisses  fell,  and  round 
her  trembling  form  his  strong  arms  clung,  as  if 
they  would  let  her  go  from  him  no  more  forever. 

To  Jenny,  in  spite  of  all  her  courage  of  love, 
this  was  a  new  and  mighty  wonder;  and  she  was 
as  if  in  a  trance  of  bliss, —  how  long  she  did  not 
know, —  until  she  felt  herself  resting,  contented 
and  quiet,  in  his  arms. 

Then  consciousness  of  all  came  back  upon  her 
like  a  wave;  and  she  knew  what  this  meant  to 
each  of  them. 

The  shadows  were  gathering.  She  felt  safe  and 
happy  in  his  arms,  but  she  wondered  that  he  kept 
so  still. 

She  moved  her  head  against  his  shoulder  and 
sighed,  pressing  him  gently  with  the  arm  that  was 
half  about  him. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  whispered. 

"  I  love  you  so  !  "  she  said. 


70  STRUAN 

"  Ah,  my  child,"  he  answered,  in  a  voice  that 
she  did  not  wholly  understand. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  whispered  in  her  turn,  lift- 
ing her  head  to  look  into  his  face  through  the 
gathering  dusk.  "  Do  you  not  love  me  ?  " 

"  I  do.  So  help  me,  God  !  It  is  my  only  ex- 
cuse," he  answered. 

"  Excuse  ?  What  do  you  want  with  an  ex- 
cuse ?  You  speak  as  if  it  were  an  injury  to  me  to 
love  me."  And  she  breathed  a  little  mocking 
laugh. 

"  That  is  my  fear,"  he  said. 

"  Then  away  with  it !  "  she  cried,  snapping  her 
pretty  fingers,  and  drawing  herself  upright  so  that 
she  stood  a  little  apart  from  him.  "  There  is  no 
place  or  room  for  fear,  if  you  love  me,"  she  said. 

He  stepped  backward  a  pace  also. 

"I  do  love  you,"  he  said  again.  "Judge  your- 
self how  much  I  love  you,  when  it  has  broken 
through  with  the  habit  of  restraint  of  all  these 
years !  I  am  over  forty  years  of  age,  and  I 
thought  myself  completely  self-controlled  ;  but  this 
love  for  you,  which  has  leapt  up  so  suddenly  in 
my  heart,  has  made  me  like  a  child  before  you. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  I  love  you,  Jenny ;  but  I 
must  get  time  to  think.  I  have  been  unpardon- 
ably,  unprecedentedly  rash.  Thought,  judgment, 


STRUAN  71 

reason,  have  had  nothing  to  do  with  my  conduct. 
I  do  not  know  myself  as  I  am  now.  You  must 
give  me  time  to  think ;  and,  when  I  have  done 
so,  we  must  speak  together,  but  not  now.  I  am 
not  equal  to  it  now." 

Jenny  felt  a  sudden  sense  of  doubt  and  fear. 

"  Speak  together  ?  "  she  said.  "  Of  course,  we 
must  speak  together ;  but  what  is  there  to  say  that 
can  alter  anything  ?  When  I  say  I  love  you,  that 
means  all.  Oh,  if  you  do  love  me, —  if  you  are 
not  deceiving  me  —  " 

Her  voice  broke,  and  he  could  see  her  tremble. 
Irresistibly  impelled,  he  moved  toward  her  again ; 
and  she  threw  herself  with  abandonment  upon  his 
breast,  and  clung  with  both  arms  to  him. 

"  Oh,  my  love,  my  love,  my  love  ! "  she  said. 
"  I  have  never  loved  a  man  before,  and  everything 
except  this  love  counts  as  nothing  to  me. 
Whether  you  take  me  or  leave  me,  I  am  yours, — 
yours  forever  !  " 

Her  lips  moved  against  his  throat,  and  her 
arms  tightened  about  him.  He  could  feel  her 
warm  breath  and  the  throbs  of  her  bounding  heart. 
He  stood  still  for  some  seconds,  his  purposes  and 
resolutions  slipping  from  his  mental  grasp.  Once 
it  seemed  as  if  he  were  about  to  recover  them,  but 
Jenny's  sweet  lips  moved  again.  He  felt  as  well 
as  heard  them  as  they  said  : 


72  STRUAN 

"  I  am  yours, —  to  take  me  or  leave  me,  as  I 
said.  And  you  are  mine,  my  own,  my  own,  my 
own !  —  my  hero,  my  master,  my  friend,  my 
ideal, —  my  first  and  only  love  !  " 

Suddenly  she  drew  away  from  him,  until  her 
eyes  could  pierce  the  gloom  dividing  them.  For 
some  seconds  they  rested  so ;  and  then  their  faces 
moved  toward  each  other,  and  they  kissed.  It 
was  the  kiss  of  a  solemn  and  acknowledged  pas- 
sion. 

When  he  released  her,  they  stood  at  arms' 
length,  holding  each  other's  hands. 

Struan  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  God  forgive  me,"  he  said.  "  What  is  it  I 
have  done  ? " 

"  Made  my  happiness  and  your  own,"  she  said. 
"  What  is  it  that  you  fear  ?  " 

11  Many  things,"  he  answered.  "  I  should  have 
thought  before  I  brought  you  here  to-day, —  before 
I  yielded  further  to  the  charm  and  the  attraction 
that  you  have  had  for  me.  But  I  little  dreamed 
the  power  of  it,  or  that  it  would  master  me  as  it 
has  done.  There  is  no  doubt  that  I  love  you, 
Jenny.  The  contrast  between  the  man  you  have 
seen  to-day  and  the  man  that  I  have  shown  my- 
self to  other  women  all  these  years  would  give  you 
proof  of  that.  And,  surely,  that  I  love  you  is  not 


STRUAN  73 

strange.  But  you, —  you  are  a  very  young  girl. 
Do  you  not  think  that,  years  to  come,  you  may  feel 
with  despair  that  I  am  too  old  for  you  ?  " 

"  If  you  can  say  that,"  she  answered,  with  a 
ring  of  indignation  in  her  voice,  "  I  cannot  feel 
that  you  really  love  me." 

"  You  are  wrong  there,  Jenny, —  all  wrong.  I 
shall  prove  to  you  that  I  do  love  you  truly  and 
without  a  doubt,  when  I  am  able  to  speak  as  my 
real  self.  That  is  impossible  now.  In  a  day  or 
two  I  shall  be  stronger  and  calmer,  and  so  will 
you." 

Jenny  gave  an  odd  little  laugh. 

"  I  am  strong  now,"  she  said, —  "  strong  as  a 
lioness,  I  think.  As  for  being  calm,  I  don't  want 
to  be  calm.  I'm  tired  of  being  calm.  The  grand, 
delightful,  blessed  thing  about  me  now  is  a  feeling 
of  moving,  unresting,  overflowing  joy,  which,  I 
trust  and  pray,  will  never  let  me  know  what  it  is 
to  be  calm  again." 

Struan  felt  once  more  that  sense  of  rejoicing  in 
the  nature  of  her. 

u  You  witch  !  —  you  child  !  "  he  murmured. 
He  honored  her  for  the  rashness  and  self-forget- 
fulness  of  her  display  of  feeling  as  much  as  another 
man  would  have  condemned  her  for  it.  He  was 
master  of  himself  again,  however;  and,  by  the 


74  STRUAN 

time  that  he  had  reached  the  entrance  to  the  park, 
he  had  resumed  his  usual  manner. 

"  We  will  wait  here  for  a  car,"  he  said,  in  the 
voice  of  the  music-master  and  friend. 

"  A  car  ?  "  she  said,  her  face  falling.  "  Couldn't 
we  get  a  cab  ?  " 

u  I  suppose  we  could,  but  I  think  the  car  is 
better." 

"  Why  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Because  it  is  more  protected.  I  must  think 
what  is  best  for  you." 

"  What  does  it  matter  r  People  have  seen  you 
with  me  already." 

"And  they  must  see  that  I  am  with  you  in  the 
proper  way.  It  is  not  usual  for  young  girls  to 
drive  about  New  York  at  this  hour  with  men  to 
whom  they  are  not  related.  We  must  follow  the 
general  rule.  For  the  rest,"  he  added,  "  I  am  re- 
warded now  for  much,  if  you  knew  it,  Jenny. 
You  have  trusted  me  instinctively,  and  the  fact  is 
precious  to  me ;  but,  if  you  had  made  all  possible 
inquiries,  you  would  have  learned  from  every 
source  that  I  was  a  man  whom  you  could  safely 
put  confidence  in.  There  is  no  woman  who  ever 
trusted  me  to  her  hurt,  and  no  breath  of  scandal 
has  connected  my  name  with  that  of  any  woman. 
So  you  may  feel  sure,  Jenny,  that  you  can  be  seen 


STRUAN  75 

with  me  without  damage  to  your  sweet  good  fame. 
Now  do  you  understand  me  when  I  say  that  I  am 
so  richly  rewarded  for  the  restraint  that  I  have  put 
upon  my  life  ?  " 

Jenny  made  no  answer.  Even  yet  he  did  not 
comprehend  the  abandonment  of  the  love  so  reck- 
lessly given  and  so  absolutely  unrepented  of.  She 
was  something  of  a  savage  in  her  nature,  and  she 
chafed  against  even  the  slight  conventionality  of 
going  in  the  street-car  instead  of  in  the  cab.  She 
had  seen  a  cab  go  by  empty  while  they  were  talk- 
ing, and  she  had  longed  to  hail  it. 

When  they  were  in  the  car  a  silence  fell  be- 
tween them.  The  mind  of  each  was  too  intensely 
preoccupied  with  recent  emotions  and  experiences 
for  them  to  be  able  to  talk  of  ordinary  things. 
Struan  could  not  get  a  seat,  so  he  stood  in  front 
of  her  and  held  to  a  strap,  his  tall  figure  lurching 
occasionally  with  the  motion  of  the  car. 

They  looked  away  from  each  other,  each  face 
assuming  a  mask  of  indifference ;  but  now  and 
then  he  would  glance  down  at  her  or  she  up  at 
him,  as  if  to  verify  the  thoughts  that  were  pass- 
ing in  their  minds.  When  he  saw  her  absently 
looking  at  her  lap,  or  she  saw  him  gazing  im- 
passively before  him,  these  recollections  seemed 
so  improbable  that  each  of  them  felt  as  if  they 


76  STRUAN 

must  have  dreamed.  Once  only,  in  these  furtive 
glances,  their  eyes  met ;  and  then  they  knew  it 
was  no  dream.  There  was  a  poignant  conscious- 
ness in  both  the  man's  heart  and  the  woman's 
which  made  their  pulses  throb  so  fast,  their  breaths 
so  quicken,  that  they  were  warned  against  another 
look.  Jenny  felt  her  face  grow  scarlet,  and  even 
Struan  had  a  sense  of  quick  relief  in  looking 
around  and  assuring  himself  that  he  had  been  un- 
observed ;  for,  surely,  that  surge  of  emotion  which 
he  had  felt  must  have  made  its  impress  on  his 
face. 

Presently  a  man  got  in  the  car  whom  Struan 
recognized,  and  greeted  cordially.  They  talked 
together,  and  laughed  occasionally,  over  things  of 
which  Jenny  knew  nothing.  The  man  was 
younger  than  Struan  ;  and  he  had  an  air  of  interest, 
and  even  of  deference,  in  talking  to  him.  He  had 
glanced  at  her  once  with  a  look  of  respectful  atten- 
tion, but  after  that  both  of  them  seemed  to  forget 
her.  She  resented  it.  She  even  felt  hurt ;  for  it 
gave  her  a  sense  of  being,  of  necessity  and  forever, 
apart  from  the  life  of  this  distinguished  man.  But 
then  would  come  the  memory  of  recent  things,  and 
with  an  easy  effort  she  would  recall  the  delight  of 
his  embrace  and  kiss ;  and  she  felt  that  he  belonged 
to  her,  and  to  her  only,  and  was  jealous  of  every 
moment's  attention  that  he  gave  elsewhere. 


STRUAN  77 

Presently  a  woman  seated  next  her  got  up  and 
went  out.  When  Struan  seemed  not  to  notice  it, 
and  let  some  one  else  take  the  vacant  seat,  Jenny 
felt  like  crying.  How  did  he  divine  this  feeling, 
unconscious  as  she  was  of  having  given  a  hint  of 
it  ?  But  so  it  was  that,  when  they  had  left  the  car, 
and  were  walking  side  by  side,  he  said, — 

"  I  wanted  so  to  take  that  seat." 

'<•  Why  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  Because  of  the  very  fact  that  I  wanted  it  so 
much  that  I  was  afraid  that  the  man  to  whom  I 
was  talking  might  see  it  in  my  face.  I  am  more 
careful  of  you,  Jenny,  than  you  will  allow  yourself 
to  see  the  use  of.  And  now,"  he  added,  pausing 
on  the  corner  of  the  block  in  which  was  situated 
her  dreary  little  boarding-house,  "  I  am  going  to 
take  leave  of  you,  Jenny.  I  won't  go  all  the  way 
to  the  door.  I  shall  think  of  you  until  you  come 
on  Wednesday.  Good-by,  my  dear." 

He  pressed  her  hand  just  one  brief  second, — 
which  seemed  to  her  fond  heart  so  miserably  inad- 
equate a  farewell, —  and  then  he  left  her. 


IV 

TO  Struan  the  interval  of  three  days  before 
they  should  meet  again  was  welcome. 
Jenny  felt  that  this  was  so,  and  felt  also 
a  restless  impatience  of  such  a  condition.  There 
was  nothing  to  be  gained  on  her  part  by  the  long 
hours  of  daylight  and  darkness,  during  which  she 
must  think  of  him  uninterruptedly  and  longingly. 
Her  mind  was  completely  made  up.  She  had  not 
one  misgiving  of  her  own  to  conquer,  and  she 
longed  only  for  the  opportunity  to  conquer  his. 

Her  parents  were  dead  ;  and  her  other  relatives 
seemed,  in  their  distant  country  home,  to  touch 
her  life  as  little  as  if  they  had  lived  on  another 
planet.  They  had  long  ago  adopted  the  policy 
of  leaving  her  to  her  own  devices,  and  she  knew 
that  from  them  she  had  nothing  to  fear.  She 
was  happy  beyond  her  utmost  dreams  of  joy.  She 
had  the  love  of  the  man  who  was  supreme  among 
men  in  her  eyes,  and  she  loved  him  with  all  the 
abandonment  of  her  nature. 

At  the  present  moment,  however,  her  impatience 
hindered  her  full  enjoyment  of  this  consciousness. 
She  was  a  simple,  primitive  creature,  and  knew 


STRUAN  79 

nothing  of  the  self-analysis  and  complicated  motives 
of  the  fin  de  siecle  woman.  She  was  uneducated, 
in  spite  of  her  shrewdness,  and  absolutely  unrelig- 
ious.  She  had  thought  little,  except  as  to  what 
she  wanted  and  what  she  didn't  want.  She  knew 
that  she  wanted,  above  all  things,  love  that  should 
be  intense  in  kind  as  well  as  degree.  She  found  it 
now  just  within  her  reach,  and  the  man  that  she 
so  ardently  loved  loved  her.  She  could  not  possibly 
understand  any  scruples  which  should  keep  them 
apart. 

To  Struan  all  was  different.  He  spent  those 
days  in  great  distress  of  mind.  That  he  was  in 
love,  passionately  in  love,  with  Jenny,  he  did  not 
attempt  to  deny ;  and  sometimes,  for  sweet  and 
agitated  hours,  as  he  lay  awake  during  those 
nights,  he  indulged  himself  in  happy  imaginings  of 
what  marriage  to  that  loving,  adoring,  cheery, 
wholesome  young  creature,  ardent  as  himself, 
would  be.  The  strongest  part  of  Jenny's  power 
over  him  lay  in  the  fact  that  she  was  the  absolute 
opposite  of  the  woman  by  marrying  whom  he 
had  wrecked  his  life.  He  believed  —  and  years 
of  serious  and  honest  thought  had  only  strengthened 
the  conviction  —  that  the  reason  for  the  failure 
of  that  marriage  lay  in  the  antagonism  of  tempera- 
ment between  himself  and  Rachel ;  and  he  had  not 


80  STRUAN 

a  doubt  that  it  was  she  who  had  been  at  fault  there, 
and  not  himself.  He  knew  that  she  was  incapable 
of  comprehending  ardent  and  passionate  feeling, 
and  that  only  he  believed  to  be  the  right  basis  of 
marriage.  Then  he  thought  of  Jenny.  What  a 
contrast !  There  was  the  sort  of  nature  that 
would  have  been  a  mate  for  his  !  His  hideous 
mistake  in  that  first  marriage  seemed  more  glar- 
ing than  ever. 

Then  came  the  sweet,  insidious  question  from 
within  :  Why  not  remedy  that  mistake,  for  his 
future  ?  He  was  still  comparatively  young  in 
years ;  and  he  knew  that,  in  feeling,  he  was  a 
youth  again,  —  since  this  scene  with  Jenny  in  the 
park.  Ah,  she  could  give  him  back  the  wild  fresh- 
ness of  morning !  What  a  gift !  What  a  boon  ! 
What  life  and  impulse  it  would  put  into  him,  for 
his  work,  his  career,  for  everything !  Then  it 
seemed  almost  a  duty  to  take  to  him  this  lovely 
young  being,  who  had  so  ruthlessly  offered  herself 
to  him  !  It  would  be  delight,  rejuvenation,  bliss. 

And  why  not  ?  Those  were  the  reasons  for 
it ;  and  what  were  the  reasons  against  it  ?  Faintly 
and  feebly  did  they  utter  themselves,  in  the  midst 
of  this  tempestuous  argument  on  the  other  side, — 
an  argument  in  which  passion,  romance,  instinct, 
inclination,  all  pitted  themselves  against  cold  rea- 


STRUAN  8i 

son.  For  Reason  said  no,  and  said  it  rigidly  and 
persistently.  Reason  argued  that  this  being  who 
was  akin  to  him  in  temperament  might  not  be  in 
other  things,  and  Reason  declared  these  other 
things  to  be  the  more  important.  This,  Passion 
denied.  Had  it  not  been  proved  that  feeling  was 
the  essential  thing  in  marriage  ?  At  least,  to  him, 
Struan,  it  had  been  so  proved.  And,  besides,  who 
could  tell  what  possibilities  of  mental  and  spiritual 
development  there  might  be  in  this  charming  girl 
who  loved  him  so  ardently  ?  True,  she  had  given 
no  indication  of  any  mental  or  spiritual  qualities 
as  yet,  and  Reason  urged  that  there  would  have 
been  some  such  indications  ;  but  Feeling  scouted 
the  idea,  and  subdued  it  with  the  old  fallacious  but 
potent  saying,  Love  is  enough  ! 

Besides,  when  all  else  was  said  and  done, 
there  was  Leonard  !  And  here  Reason  got  her 
innings  ;  for,  at  this  thought,  Passion  felt  that  there 
was  still  a  leash  upon  her.  This  thought,  in  spite 
of  all  the  ardor  in  his  blood,  gave  Struan  pause. 
Yes,  there  was  Leonard ;  and  Leonard  had  a 
great  ideal  of  his  father.  To  live  up  to  this  ideal 
was  the  most  powerful  inspiration  of  Struan's  life. 
And  why  should  a  marriage  with  Jenny  cause  him 
to  fall  below  it  ?  asked  Feeling,  arrogantly.  And 
the  cold  voice  of  Reason  said  only  :  You  know. 


82  STRUAN 

Then  he  felt  that  he  did  know,  deep  down  in 
the  secret  places  of  his  heart ;  but  overlying  these 
was  such  a  seething,  boiling  flood  of  feeling,  re- 
minding him  of  the  sweet  scene  past,  and  prompt- 
ing him  toward  a  renewal  of  that  sweetness,  that 
Reason's  voice  was  well-nigh  drowned. 

When  morning  came,  the  morning  on  which 
he  was  to  see  Jenny  again,  he  felt  that  he  had, 
after  some  hours  of  soothing  sleep,  got  himself  a 
little  better  in  hand.  Feeling  was  working  still,  a 
mighty  force  within  him ;  but  Reason  was  steadily 
advancing,  and  disputing  every  foot  of  ground. 
On  one  point  only  the  two  were  agreed;  and  that 
was  in  drawing  the  sharp  contrast  between  the 
ardent,  brave,  untrammelled  temperament  of  Jenny, 
and  Rachel,  with  her  cold,  prudish,  repellent  nature, 
so  morbidly  timid  about  the  criticisms  of  her  little 
set. 

One  of  the  strongest  elements  in  Struan's  nat- 
ure was  a  rebellion  against  conventionality.  He 
heartily  despised  it,  and  had  given  strong  proof  of 
this  scorn  by  shaking  himself  free  from  a  long 
line  of  conservative  and  aristocratic  ancestors, 
chiefly  lawyers,  statesmen,  diplomatists,  and  clergy- 
men, and,  obeying  the  bent  of  his  nature,  had  em- 
braced the  career  of  a  musician.  After  a  few 
wretched  years  of  married  life,  spent  in  the  desper- 


STRUAN  83 

ate  effort  to  restrict,  restrain,  and  contradict  his 
real  nature,  he  had  given  it  up,  made  the  best  ar- 
rangements that  he  could  for  his  wife  and  child, 
and  gone  abroad  to  continue  the  study  of  music, — 
a  field  in  which  he  had  already  won  distinction. 
In  his  life  in  foreign  cities  he  had  lived  principally 
among  Bohemians,  making  friendships  with  men 
and  women  there  which  were  the  most  affection- 
ate and  enduring  ties  that  he  had  ever  known. 
Artists,  actors,  authors,  musicians, —  he  had  a 
warm  communion  with  them  all  ;  and  no  man 
was  ever  better  loved  than  these  friends  loved  him. 
For  the  men  of  his  own  standing  'in  the  social 
world  he  cared  little ;  and  the  women,  except  in 
rare  instances,  he  despised. 

He  had  an  ideal  woman,  at  this  period  of  his 
life,  who  did  him  good  service.  She  was  a  being 
equally  passionate  and  delicate,  equally  cultivated 
and  broad-minded,  equally  refined  and  free, 
equally  religious  and  tolerant.  He  had  believed 
intensely  in  this  woman,  and  for  years  had  looked 
for  her,  not  with  any  idea  of  satisfying  the 
promptings  of  his  love,  but  with  a  hope,  quite  as 
important  and  far  more  possible,  that  he  might  so 
see  realized  his  ideal  of  womanhood.  That  hope 
he  had  at  last  given  up,  that  ideal  he  had  reluc- 
tantly decided  to  be  impossible.  The  women 


84  STRUAN 

whom  he  met  in  his  professional  career  were  often 
broad  and  true  and  generous  in  their  natures,  in 
keen  contrast  to  his  wife ;  but  they  presented  a 
strong  contrast  to  his  ideal  as  well  in  that  they 
lacked  the  breeding,  the  sensibility,  the  cultivation, 
which  belonged  to  that  ideal,  and,  in  addition  to 
all  these,  the  religion. 

He  knew  how  easy  it  would  be  to  laugh  at  him 
for  this  last  requirement ;  for  he  never  entered  a 
church,  and  he  did  not  know  Sunday  from  any 
other  day  except  that  he  was  less  bound  by  busi- 
ness engagements.  For  all  that  he  was  deeply  re- 
ligious, and  he  had  an  indestructible  faith  in  the 
fatherhood  of  God.  It  belonged  to  his  ideal  of 
the  supreme  woman  that  she  should  have  it  also. 

It  was  long  now  since  he  had  had  dreams  of 
this  ideal.  Bohemia  had  furnished  him  with  no 
semblance  of  her,  and  society  had  made  her  seem 
more  impossible  still.  He  scarcely  ever  thought 
about  her  now.  She  belonged  to  his  mistaken 
past  and  to  his  intangible  future  which  lay  beyond 
this  life.  Somewhere,  in  another  star,  she  might 
be  waiting  for  him. 

Another  star,  however,  is  an  unsatisfactory  sphere 
for  an  ardent-natured,  active-minded  man  such  as 
Struan  ;  and  he  scarcely  ever  reverted  consciously 
to  that  dream  of  his  earlier  years.  The  battle  of 


STRUAN  85 

life  was  waging  round  him  ;  and  he  took  his  part  in 
it,  through  a  thousand  issues  of  sympathy  and  help 
for  others,  and  he  got  sympathy  and  help  in  return. 

But  from  no  source  whatever  did  he  get  what 
to  a  man  of  his  nature  was  the  supremely  important 
thing, —  the  sympathy  of  woman.  He  was  too 
experienced  a  man  to  play  with  the  delusive  idea 
of  Platonic  love.  He  had  seen  that  bubble  burst 
too  often.  If  he  loved  his  neighbor's  wife,  as  in 
some  cases  he  did,  it  was  as  his  neighbor's  wife; 
and  that  sort  of  love  could  not  give  him  the  sym- 
pathy for  which  he  longed.  People  supposed  him 
to  be  superior  to  the  need  of  the  sympathy  and 
companionship  of  women,  but  that  need  had  never 
come  home  to  him  with  a  more  compelling  insist- 
ency than  now  when  he  thought  of  Jenny. 

Upon  what  simple  lines  was  this  young  girl's 
nature  made  !  Her  unquestioningness  of  anything 
but  love  seemed  to  him  superb.  Nothing  was 
plainer  than  that  her  life  in  her  country  home  had 
been  as  free  as  a  child's  from  the  consciousness 
that  made  so  large  an  element  in  the  lives  of  most 
girls.  She  had  called  him  her  first  love,  and  he 
had  not  one  doubt  that  her  words  were  true.  How 
free  she  was  from  that  air  of  initiation  and  experi- 
ence which  the  best  of  the  women  in  Bohemia 
had  !  How  splendid  had  been  her  resolute  refusal 


86  STRUAN 

to  accept  any  compromise  with  love  !  How  bravely 
she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  wed  her  art,  even 
when  she  did  not  pretend  to  any  high  place  in  her 
profession  !  And,  then,  how  pretty  she  was  !  — 
how  fearless  !  —  how  strong  !  The  remembrance 
of  her  kisses  came  back  to  him,  keen  and  poignant, 
as  they  had  come  a  hundred  times.  What  a  wild 
creature  she  was  !  and  how  fearlessly,  meeting  Love 
at  last,  she  had  put  her  hand  into  his,  obedient  to 
his  every  prompting  !  The  pure,  untrodden  fresh- 
ness of  her  nature,  the  passion  of  it,  made  an  appeal 
both  to  his  senses  and  his  spirit.  He  longed  to 
accept  and  rejoice  in  the  love  that  she  was  so  will- 
ing to  give ;  and  he  knew  that  he  had  both  the 
perception  and  the  power  —  rare  perhaps  —  to  pro- 
tect her  impulsive  self-abandonment.  This  in  itself 
seemed  to  make  a  strong  demand  upon  him. 

Struan's  life  had  been  a  sad  one  all  through. 
He  had  forbidden  himself  a  thousand  times  the 
things  that  other  men,  in  his  case,  would  have 
thought  themselves  entitled  to ;  but  the  denial 
which  he  must  practise  now  was  infinitely  the 
hardest  of  all. 

And  need  he  so  deny  himself?  Jenny  had  said 
that  she  was  his,  whether  he  chose  to  take  her  or 
to  leave  her.  How  he  longed  to  take  her  !  How 
his  heart  rebelled  at  the  idea  of  leaving  her  !  How 


STRUAN  87 

she  loved  him  !  That  was  the  most  terrible  part 
of  all.  She  would  have  to  suffer  so.  And  he  would 
have  to  suffer,  too.  There  was  no  doubt  of  that. 
But  how,  if  they  chose  to  forego  the  suffering, 
and  to  give  themselves  up  to  love  ?  He  was  a  man 
of  forty-two ;  but  never,  in  his  most  impassioned 
boyhood,  had  he  felt  his  blood  so  quicken,  his  heart 
so  thrill,  to  the  idea  of  love  as  now,  when  he  thought 
of  Jenny. 


THAT  Wednesday  morning  Struan  got  up 
early,  and  dressed  quickly,  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  a  strengthening  will  and 
purpose.  He  had  been  miserably  at  fault  in  that 
last  scene  with  Jenny.  He  should  never  have 
let  her  know  of  his  feeling  for  her.  At  the 
first  evidence  that  she  gave  of  her  feeling  for 
him  he  should  have  cut  things  short.  All  he 
could  do  now  was  to  right  himself  as  far  as  pos- 
sible, and  so  put  into  their  future  intercourse  a 
quality  of  deliberation  and  judgment  which  had 
certainly  been  lacking  thus  far.  He  must  have 
a  plain  talk  and  understanding  with  her,  for  her 
sake  and  his  own. 

The  hour  for  the  lesson  came.  They  met 
quietly,  even  coolly.  Struan,  in  accordance  with 
a  resolution  made  beforehand,  went  to  the  piano 
and  pulled  out  the  stool,  seating  himself,  ready  to 
begin. 

Jenny  saw  and  understood  his  action.     There 

was  a  certain  air  of  defiance  about   her  as  she  took 

her  stand  at   his   side,  and,  when    he  struck    the 

proper  note,  began  to  sing.      Her  voice  was  clear 

88 


STRUAN  89 

and  steady,  and  for  a  time  her  pride  supported  her. 
When  the  lesson  was  about  half  through,  how- 
ever, she  felt  a  dangerous  weakness  coming  over 
her.  She  had  looked  as  long  as  her  self-command 
would  permit  at  that  familiar  profile.  She  had 
learned  to  know  that  its  present  expression,  with 
the  lower  lip  slightly  protruding  beyond  the  upper, 
meant  strong  feeling  under  strong  command.  She 
was  sure  that  he  had  thought  out  the  situation  be- 
tween them,  and  that  he  had  decided  it  in  a  man- 
ner unfavorable  to  her  wishes.  How  could  she  go 
on  singing  that  inane  thing  supposed  to  be  a 
passionate  love-song,  but  in  reality  a  mush  of 
sentimentality  compared  to  the  fire  in  her  breast  ? 

Her  voice  faltered.  She  threw  down  her  sheet 
of  music,  and  said  abruptly  : 

"  What  nonsense  to  keep  up  this  farce  !  " 

u  What  farce  ?  "   he  said,  facing  her. 

"  The  farce  of  our  acting  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened. It  may  be  possible  to  you.  It  is  not  so 
to  me.  You  are  cruel." 

She  sank  into  a  chair,  and  turned  away  from 
him,  leaning  her  elbow  on  a  table  and  resting  her 
chin  in  her  hand.  He  fixed  his  eyes  upon  her, 
taking  in  all  the  dejectedness  of  her  figure  and 
her  attitude.  Then  he  said  : 

"  The  pain  that  it  gives  me  to  hear  you  call  me 


90  STRUAN 

cruel  I  must  take  as  a  warning.  If  I  deserve  it 
now  in  a  slight  degree,  I  must  be  warned  in  time, 
and  not  give  you  reason  to  apply  that  word  to  me 
in  a  sterner  sense." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  said,  turning  and 
facing  him.  "  Please  say  exactly  what  you 
mean." 

u  I  mean,"  he  said  gravely,  "  that  I  owe  you 
reparation  already.  I  should  not  have  shown  you 
that  I  loved  you.  I  should  not  have  taken  ad- 
vantage of  your  generosity  —  " 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  she  interrupted.  "  Let  us 
be  perfectly  honest.  You  took  no  advantage.  I 
showed  no  generosity.  It  was  I,  first,  who  gave 
expression  to  my  love  for  you  j  and  do  you  think 
I  am  ashamed  of  it  ?  You  don't  know  me ! 
Where  other  women  —  women  whom  I  do  not 
comprehend  —  would  feel  shame,  I  feel  only  ex- 
ultation. And  why  should  I  not  exult  ?  The 
man  I  love  loves  me  —  for  that  you  do  love  me 
you  cannot  make  me  doubt." 

u  I  don't  wish  you  to  doubt  it.  I  have  never 
thought  of  denying  it,"  he  said,  warming  uncon- 
sciously under  the  spell  of  her  fiery  truthfulness. 
She  was  fine  in  her  splendid  candor.  It  was  un- 
like other  women,  and  supremely  unlike  one 
woman. 


STRUAN  91 

u  Then,  if  you  love  me,  what  else  can  matter  ? 
Why  should  we  not  be  happy  in  our  love  for  one 
another  ?  " 

"  Ah,  Jenny,  that  is  just  what  I  have  been  ask- 
ing myself.  And  there  seem  to  me  strong  reasons, 
—  things  that  should  be  considered,  at  least." 

"  What  reasons  ?  " 

11  For  one  thing,  I  am  too  old  for  you." 

She  laughed,  throwing  her  head  back  sideways. 
Then,  after  the  emission  of  that  mocking  laugh, 
she  looked  at  him  gravely,  her  lips  curling  in  a 
scorn  from  which  all  mirth  had  departed.  It 
seemed  to  say, —  that  look, — "  I  am  ashamed  of 
you."  And  Struan  felt  ashamed  of  himself. 

"  The  question  of  age  I  admit  to  be  a  minor 
matter,  when  other  things  are  right,"  he  said. 

"  Well,  I  should  think  so  !  "  answered  Jenny. 
"I  did  not  expect  it  of  you,  Mr.  Struan, —  to  be 
giving  conventional  reasons." 

"  '  Mr.  Struan,'  "  he  repeated,  smiling  as  if  the 
formality  of  the  term  amused  him. 

She  returned  his  smile,  the  same  incongruity 
having  struck  her.  This  mutual  consciousness 
alarmed  him  a  little.  It  was  significant  of  too 
much.  After  a  moment's  silence  Jenny  went  on, 
as  if  impatient : 

"  Well,  what  else  ?  "  she  said.  "  We  have  dis- 
posed of  the  question  of  age." 


92  STRUAN 

Struan  felt  it  rather  difficult  to  go  on.  Some- 
how, in  this  resolute  young  presence,  in  face  of 
her  beauty,  her  courage,  her  charm,  the  reasons 
which  he  had  thought  potent  seemed  to  lose  much 
of  their  force. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said  next,  "  how  short  a 
time  I  have  been  free  from  the  bond  of  my  first 
marriage  ?  You  should  know  that." 

"  Why  ?  "  said  Jenny.  "  I  don't  see  that  it  is 
at  all  important.  I  know  nothing,  and  I  shall 
not  ask." 

"  It  has  been  scarcely  more  than  a  year,"  he 
said,  "since  death  put  an  end  to  that  bond, —  an 
obligation  to  which  I  can  feel  that  I  was  faithful 
to  the  best  of  my  ability." 

"  Feeling  that,  you  need  concern  yourself  with 
it  no  further,"  she  said.  "  The  fact  that  you 
are  free  is  enough.  Indeed,  if  you  were  not  so, 
—  if  you  were  held  by  any  tie  but  that  of  love, — 
I  should  not  regard  it." 

"  Stop,  Jenny,"  he  said,  divided  between  admi- 
ration for  her  courage  of  love  and  fear  that  she 
might  err  too  far  on  the  other  side.  "  Don't  say 
that." 

Jenny  laughed. 

"  Well,  I  won't  say  it,"  she  answered  ;  "  but  I 
have  no  timidity  in  my  love.  Go  on  now,  and 


STRUAN  93 

tell  me  your  other  reasons.  If  they  are  no  better 
than  these  — " 

Somehow  they  seemed  to  be  dwindling,  both  in 
number  and  importance ;  but  Jenny  was  waiting 
impatiently  for  him  to  speak.  So  he  said  : 

"  I  do  love  you,  Jenny,  so  truly,  so  greatly,  that 
I  confess  that  I  am  tempted  to  disregard  all  else. 
I  must  not  yield  to  the  temptation,  however.  I 
must  stop  and  think.  For  one  thing,  there  is  my 
duty  to  my  son." 

"  And  how  does  that  affect  the  matter  ?  "  she 
said.  "  Would  you  wish  his  duty  to  you  to  come 
before  his  duty  to  the  woman  he  loved  ?  Would 
you  ?  " 

The  question  impressed  him. 

"  I  should  not,"  he  said  emphatically.  "  I  have 
always  told  him  that  that  was  a  man's  highest 
allegiance." 

"  I  should  think  so,"  she  said  with  conviction  ; 
and  he  could  detect  an  inflection  of  resentment  or 
mortification  in  her  voice. 

"  Jenny,"  he  said  tenderly,  "  I  am  obliged  to 
appear  to  you  now  what  I  am  not.  Forgive  me. 
You  do  not  understand.  Perhaps  you  think  my 
feelings  are  not  deeply  involved,  as  yours  are. 
Perhaps  you  think  I  should  not  suffer  if  I  gave 
you  up.  If  you  think  that  — " 


94  STRUAN 

But  he  paused,  overcome  by  the  sorrow  of  her 
face.  The  tears  had  sprung  to  her  eyes,  and  her 
mouth  was  quivering. 

"You  do  not  think  how  I  would  suffer,"  she 
said.  "  You  care  only  to  do  your  duty  to  others, 
and  you  think  nothing  of  your  duty  to  me.  You 
can  do  as  you  please,  but  on  one  point  you  shall 
not  be  mistaken  :  if  you  part  from  me  now,  you 
will  ruin  my  life.  I  would  not  say  this  if  I  did 
not  know  you  loved  me.  I  would  not  let  myself 
feel  it,  even.  But,  knowing  that  you  do  love  me, 
if  you  send  me  away  from  you,  it  will  be  death  to 
me,  or  worse.  I  don't  know  what  will  become  of 
me,  and  I  don't  care.  My  life  will  just  be  ruined. 
Ever  to  hope  again  would  seem  to  me  absolute 
folly.  I  worshipped  you  for  years  before  you  ever 
saw  or  heard  of  me.  You  have  been  my  one 
supreme  ideal.  When  a  young  girl  has  cherished 
such  an  ideal  through  the  years,  and,  meeting  him 
at  last  in  the  flesh,  has  found  him  more  than  her 
dreams  had  pictured,  has  then  been  held  in  his 
arms,  kissed  by  him,  told  that  she  was  loved  by 
him,  and  then,"  she  added,  her  eyes  blazing  be- 
tween love  and  indignation,  "  coolly  recommended 
to  give  him  up  for  certain  flimsy  conventions 
which  she  despises,  and  which  he  ought  to  despise 
as  much  as  she  — " 


STRUAN  95 

She  rose  to  her  feet,  and  made  a  motion  toward 
the  door.  But  Struan  had  sprung  up,  too,  and 
placed  himself  between  it  and  her. 

"  You  shall  not  leave  me  like  this,"  he  said. 
"What  you  say  of  me  is  not  true.  I  have  the 
courage  of  my  love  as  well  as  you." 

"  Your  love ! "  she  said  in  a  light  mocking 
voice.  "  What  is  your  love  ?  " 

He  reached  forward  and  seized  her  hands  in 
both  of  his,  and  held  them  so  pressed  tight. 

"Jenny,"  he  said,  "you  absolutely  madden  me 
when  you  speak  like  that.  Don't  pretend  that  you 
doubt  my  love  for  you.  That  is  a  thing  I  will  not 
stand.  Look  at  me." 

But  Jenny's  eyes  were  hid  behind  their  lowered 
lids.  She  did  not  lift  them,  and  he  said  again, 

"  Look  at  me." 

That  voice  she  knew  not  how  to  disobey.  She 
looked  up  and  met  the  dominating  gaze  of  which 
she  was  the  slave.  Her  hands  shook  in  his. 
Two  teardrops  filled  and  overflowed  her  eyes. 

Then  in  the  same  all-conquering  voice,  sunk  to 
the  lowest  whisper,  he  said  : 

"  Now  do  you  believe  I  love  you  ?  Answer 
me." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "you  love  me  —  in  your 
way." 


96  STRUAN 

The  answer  stung  him.  He  dropped  her  hands, 
and  drew  apart  from  her.  She  seemed  to  accept 
the  separation  thus  implied ;  and,  turning  toward 
the  piano,  she  began  to  put  up  her  music  in  its 
case. 

"  I  can  say  no  more,"  she  said.  "  You  know 
how  I  feel ;  and  I,  I  am  afraid,  know  also  how  you 
feel.  We  need  talk  no  more  about  it,  if  other 
things  weigh  with  you  more  than  love.  It  is  not 
so  with  me.  Perhaps  you  despise  me  for  it.  If 
so,  I  can't  help  it.  I  am  made  that  way,  and 
so  I  am." 

"  Despise  you  for  it,  Jenny  !  I  love  it,  I  de- 
light in  it.  It  is  what  I  admire,  in  a  woman  as 
well  as  a  man.  You  do  not  understand  me." 

She  saw  that  he  was  moved, —  that  the  thought 
of  parting  from  her  had  told  upon  him. 

She  went  on  tying  up  her  music.  Then  she 
said: 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  understand  you.  You  have 
made  it  very  plain.  We  needn't  talk  about  it  any 
more.  This  will  be  my  last  lesson,  and  I  shall 
not  see  you  again.  I  will  send  you,  by  mail,  the 
money  that  I  owe  you  for  teaching  me." 

As  she  turned  as  if  to  go,  he  took  her  arm  in 
a  firm  grasp. 

"  You   will   take  your  seat  in    that   chair,"  he 


STRUAN  97 

said,  pressing  her  into  it,  "  and  listen  to  what  I 
have  to  say.  For  you  to  talk  of  paying  me  money 
is  not  only  absurd,  it  is  a  positive  unkindness." 

"  Why  ?  "  she  said  innocently.  She  had  re- 
mained in  her  seat,  pleased  within  her  at  his  mas- 
terfulness. Up  to  this  time  she  had  dominated 
every  man  she  had  come  in  contact  with.  "  Why 
is  it  either  absurd  or  unkind  ?  "  she  went  on.  "  You 
are  only  my  music-teacher,  and  I  am  only  your 
pupil  who  owes  you  money.  If  you  agree  to  it,  I 
will  deduct  for  the  lessons  I  have  not  taken  and 
shall  not  take.  The  money,  I  suppose,  is  of  more 
importance  to  you  than  it  is  to  me,  as  I  have  no 
one  to  look  to  for  anything  and  am  very  poor." 

She  said  this  with  deliberate  purpose,  and  she 
saw  that  it  told. 

"Jenny,"  he  said,  with  that  peculiar  kindness 
of  look  and  tone  which  she  had  seen  nothing  like 
in  man  or  woman  before,  "  if  you  meant  to  cut 
me  to  the  heart  by  that,  you  have  succeeded. 
The  thought  of  your  loneliness  undoes  me.  You 
must  give  me  a  little  more  time  to  think  this  mat- 
ter over,  both  in  its  bearing  upon  your  life  and 
mine.  But  this  I  will  tell  you,  Jenny,  that  your 
need  of  me  can  hardly  be  greater  than  mine  of  you. 
Other  men  may  live  their  lives  and  do  their  work 
without  love,  but  not  I.  You  accuse  me  of  hold- 


98  STRUAN 

ing  it  a  secondary  thing,  but  you  are  wrong.  All 
my  life  I  have  attached  the  first  importance  to  it, — 
too  much,  I  fear.  Always  in  my  heart  I  have 
been  a  seeker  after  love, —  not,  I  must  explain,  as 
an  end,  but  as  the  means  to  any  great  end  in  my 
life.  It  may  not  be  so  with  others,  but  I  know  it 
is  so  with  me.  I  can  never  do  my  best  work  or 
render  material  service  to  my  generation  without 
the  help  and  support  of  a  woman's  love,  a  home,  a 
domestic  life.  All  these  years  that  I  have  lived  so 
far,  I  have  felt  myself  hampered  by  this  lack.  I 
ought  to  be  superior  to  it,  I  suppose ;  but  it  is  my 
limitation.  I  love  you,  my  Jenny.  Never  dream 
but  that  I  love  you ;  but  I  must  be  alone  now  to 
think, —  away  from  the  spell  of  your  sweet  pres- 
ence. We  must  part  now,  but  we  must  see  each 
other  again  for  our  final  word.  Come  as  usual  for 
your  next  lesson,  and  then  we  will  settle  it  how 
our  future  is  to  be." 

He  got  up,  and,  standing  in  front  of  her,  lifted 
her  two  little  hands  in  his  big  ones,  and  placed 
them  at  each  side  of  his  face.  They  were  soft 
and  dimpled  as  a  child's,  and  their  palms  were  like 
satin  ;  but  no  less  sweet  to  her  was  the  touch  of 
his  dark  skin,  now  smooth,  now  harsh,  as  he 
moved  her  unresisting  hands  up  and  down  his 
shaven  cheeks. 


STRUAN  99 

Jenny's  eyes  grew  big  with  tears. 

"  O  Struan,"  she  said,  calling  him  by  the 
name  he  had  lived  by  in  her  heart,  "  I  worship 
you." 

He  gently  shook  the  head  between  her  palms. 

"  Love  me,  help  me,"  he  said  :  "  don't  worship 
me.  I  am  a  weak  and  joy-loving  man,  who  can- 
not even  yet  be  sure  of  himself,  in  spite  of  much 
discipline.  My  resolution  now  is  to  discover  the 
right  and  do  it,  at  any  cost  to  myself.  It  is  the 
possible  cost  to  you  —  you  generous,  sweet,  mag- 
nificent young  thing — that  makes  the  pang.  I 
am  old  compared  to  you,  and  I  must  give  you  the 
benefit  of  my  hard-won  experience.  I  will  try  to 
do  the  best  I  can  for  both  of  us,  my  Jenny ;  but 
now  I  feel  weak  and  bewildered." 

He  had  taken  her  hands  down  from  his  cheeks, 
and  now  he  framed  her  flushed  face  with  his  own. 

Jenny  lifted  one  pretty  shoulder,  and  bent  her 
head  sideways  toward  it,  so  that  she  might  press 
the  dear  hand  close.  Then  she  reached  up,  and 
with  her  two  caressing  little  hands  she  drew  his 
dark  face  nearer. 

"  Will  you  kiss  me  good-by  ?  " 

"  No,  Jenny,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head,  and 
smiling  down  at  her.  "  I  have  confessed  that 
I  am  weak,  but  I  am  not  weak  enough  for  that." 


ioo  STRUAN 

He  gently  drew  away  from  her,  as  he  said  these 
words  j  and  she  felt  that  the  interview  was  ended. 

She  went  to  get  her  gloves ;  and,  as  she  put 
them  on,  standing  a  few  feet  away  from  him,  she 
said  :  "  I  only  ask  you  to  remember  this,  in  mak- 
ing your  decision.  If  you  decide  as  I  wish, 
you  will  be  securing  not  only  my  happiness,  but 
my  good  forever.  Should  you  decide  the  other 
way,  you  will  spoil  not  only  my  chance  of  happi- 
ness, but  you  will  risk  the  welfare  of  my  soul  and 
body  to  an  extent  that  you  may  not  dream  of,  but 
which  is  known  to  me  absolutely.  You  will 
think  of  that,  until  we  meet  again.  The  time  will 
seem  long  to  me,  but  I  shall  sweeten  it  with 
thoughts  of  you  and  of  what  our  love  and  life 
may  be,  if  you  will  let  the  happiness  that  waits 
come  in." 

The  words  called  up  the  picture  to  his  mind. 
A  swift  thought  came  over  him  that,  if  he  decided 
they  must  part,  he  could  hardly  dare  to  see  her 
again.  The  spell  of  her  bodily  presence  was  too 
sweet. 

Some  occult  influence  must  have  carried  the 
thought  from  his  mind  to  hers. 

"  If  I  should  never  see  you  again  !  "  she  cried, 
as  if  in  terror. 

He  could  not  speak.      He   stood   and   looked   at 


STRUAN  ioi 

her  in  a  way  that  was  a  recognition  of  that  pos- 
sibility. 

"  O  Struan,  I  cannot  bear  it !  It  is  too 
much  !  "  she  cried  ;  and,  with  a  sudden  burst  of 
tears,  she  threw  herself  into  his  arms,  and  clasped 
her  arms  around  his  neck. 

To  the  winds  with  his  resolutions !  They 
were  forgotten  in  one  heart-beat,  as  he  clasped 
her  close  and  covered  her  face  with  kisses.  As 
quickly  were  her  tears  forgotten  then.  They 
stopped  short  at  their  source,  as  she  clung  to  him, 
returning  his  caresses  with  an  ardor  equal  to  his 
own. 

Out  of  that  trance  of  joy  she  came  back  to  the 
consciousness  of  apprehension. 

"  Swear  to  me,  Struan,"  she  said,  "  that  you 
will  see  me  once  again.  I  will  not  go  until  you 
promise  it." 

"  I  promise,"  he  said.  "  Go  now,  Jenny.  We 
will  meet  again." 

And  Jenny  went,  exulting  in  hope  for  the  fut- 
ure as  she  exulted  in  fruition  in  the  past. 


VI 

JENNY    laughed    to   herself  as   she    reflected 
upon  the  peculiar  positions  which  she  and 
Struan  had  held  during  their  last  interview. 
It  was   she  who  had   wooed   and  pleaded,  and  he 
who  had  hesitated  and   held  back.      To  a  woman 
of  her    temperament,  this    idea   was  piquant   and 
unusual,   not  in  the  least  mortifying. 

It  was  Jenny's  habit  to  scan  the  papers  every 
morning  in  search  of  some  mention  of  Struan's 
name.  Two  mornings  after  her  interview  with 
him,  she  saw  a  concert  advertised,  at  which  Struan 
was  to  lead  the  orchestra.  It  was  to  take  place  at 
the  great  music  hall  where  he  had  tested  her 
voice.  She  had  never  seen  him  lead,  and  she  de- 
cided to  go.  Accordingly,  she  went  out  and 
bought  her  ticket, —  a  single  seat  which  happened 
to  be  left  in  an  advantageous  place,  well  in  view 
of  the  stage.  There  was  no  friend  whom  she 
could  call  on  to  go  with  her;  and,  if  there  had 
been,  there  was  no  companionship  that  she  would 
have  wished  now.  She  was  entirely  fearless  of 
possible  annoyances,  such  as  might  have  hampered 
other  girls,  as  she  dressed  herself  with  great  care, 
and  took  a  street-car  for  the  music  hall. 

102 


STRUAN  103 

The  great  room  was  brilliantly  lighted  and  tol- 
erably well  filled  when  she  entered  it.  What  a 
contrast  to  the  empty  gloom  which  had  pervaded 
it  when  she  saw  it  last !  Entered  from  the  wide 
corridors,  blazing  with  lights  and  animated  with 
movement  and  sound,  she  could  scarcely  believe 
it  the  same  place. 

But  there,  at  one  side  of  the  stage,  was  the  little 
door  by  which  she  and  Struan  had  entered ;  and 
there,  too,  was  the  dais  for  the  leader  of  the  or- 
chestra to  stand  on,  the  corner  of  which,  where 
she  had  sat,  he  had  promised  always  to  associate 
with  her  in  the  future.  Would  he  think  of  that 
to-night,  she  wondered  ?  Her  heart  sank.  At 
that  moment  it  seemed  ridiculously  unlikely. 

The  piano  had  been  taken  away,  and  the  music- 
stands  and  seats  for  the  orchestra  were  in  place. 
The  hall  was  getting  fuller  every  moment,  and 
presently  the  seats  next  to  Jenny  were  taken  pos- 
session of  by  a  fashionable-looking  party.  As 
they  sat  down,  Jenny  heard  a  very  smartly 
dressed  young  girl  say  : 

"  I'm  so  glad  we're  in  good  time.  I  wouldn't 
miss  seeing  Struan  come  out  for  anything." 

"  O  you  !  "  replied  her  friend.  "  I  believe 
that's  all  you  come  for, —  to  see  Struan.  I  don't 
believe  you'd  know  it  if  the  orchestra  played  on 


io4  STRUAN 

dumb  instruments,  so  long  as  Struan  stood  up 
there  and  sawed  the  air  and  waved  his  arms  and 
nodded." 

The  first  speaker  laughed  good-humoredly. 

"  Well,  you  used  to  be  as  bad,"  she  said ;  "  and 
the  only  difference  is  that  you've  learned  conceal- 
ment, which  I  haven't,  and  don't  want  to.  You're 
engaged  to  a  prig  who  has  cut  you  down  on  en- 
thusiasms." 

They  both  laughed,  and  then  grew  suddenly 
quiet  as  the  members  of  the  orchestra  began  to 
come  out  at  the  rear  of  the  stage  and  take  their 
places. 

Jenny  turned,  and  looked  around  her.  The 
tiers  of  boxes  were  filled  now  with  a  magnificent 
audience.  The  rich  colors  of  their  costumes  and 
the  wavings  of  their  fans  made  a  blur  of  tone  and 
motion  that  bewildered  her.  She  seemed  a  lonely 
atom  in  this  gay  and  social  place. 

A  sharp  root  of  bitterness  shot  up  within  her; 
and  an  act  which  she  had  committed  a  little  while 
ago  seemed  to  her  useless,  foolish,  and  even  hu- 
miliating. 

The  act  was  this.  Before  starting  for  the  con- 
cert, she  had  written  on  a  bit  of  paper  the  words 
"  I  am  here,"  and  had  signed  it  with  the  initial  of 
her  first  name  and  sealed  it  in  an  envelope,  which 
she  directed  to  Struan. 


STRUAN  105 

On  her  arrival  at  the  hall  she  had  handed  this 
envelope  to  one  of  the  ushers  in  a  business-like 
way,  saying  that  it  was  important  that  it  should 
reach  Mr.  Struan  before  the  concert  began. 

It  made  her  cheeks  hot  now  to  think  of  the  im- 
portance which  she  had  assumed  that  Struan  would 
attach  to  the  announcement  on  that  bit  of  paper. 
How  could  it  be  anything  to  him  whether  she  was 
there  or  not  ?  She  began  to  feel  that  all  his  argu- 
ments against  marrying  her  were  got  up  to  spare 
her  feelings.  He  would  naturally  be  too  kind  to 
tell  her  plainly  how  unequal  and  absurd  a  marriage 
would  be  between  a  great  and  important  man  like 
him  and  an  insignificant  little  nobody  like  her. 
Poor  Jenny  !  She  was  feeling  most  unhappy  as 
the  last  members  of  the  orchestra  took  their  places. 

Then  there  followed  an  unmistakable  hush  over 
all  the  house.  The  people  next  to  Jenny  sat  still 
and  expectant,  gazing  at  the  stage  where  each  one 
of  the  musicians  now  waited  in  his  place. 

Now  at  the  little  door  at  the  side  Struan's 
powerful  figure  appeared,  and  walked  rather  quickly 
across  the  wide  stage  to  the  leader's  stand. 

The  house  burst  into  loud  applause.  He  had 
taken  his  place  with  his  back  to  the  audience  ;  and 
he  turned,  and  bowed  gravely. 

Poor  little  Jenny  !      She  knew  only  a  conscious- 


io6  STRUAN 

ness  of  love, —  overwhelming,  passionate,  all- 
dominating,  and  at  the  same  time  keenly  sad. 
She  felt  her  love  for  this  man  a  stronger  force 
within  her  than  it  had  ever  been  yet,  but  that  he 
could  care  for  her  seemed  a  wild  improbability 
which  she  wondered  she  could  ever  have  been  de- 
luded by. 

Good  looks  go  far  with  women,  and  she  had 
never  seen  Struan  look  so  well.  His  careful  even- 
ing toilet  gave  to  both  his  face  and  figure  an  air 
that  made  him  look  elegant  and  distinguished. 
He  bore  the  ordeal  of  his  present  conspicuousness 
superbly ;  and  as  twice  he  raised  his  arm  to 
begin,  and  was  stopped  by  the  applause  of  the 
audience,  and  turned  once,  and  then  again,  to 
respond  by  that  grave  bow,  Jenny's  heart  was 
crowded  to  the  point  of  pain  with  love,  adoration, 
and  longing. 

In  response  to  his  third  and  very  decided  mo- 
tion to  begin,  the  orchestra  started  smoothly  off. 

The  concert  opened  with  the  ever-popular  "Last 
Waltz "  of  Weber.  Jenny  listened  entranced. 
She  had  never  heard  a  really  fine  orchestra;  and 
never  had  her  senses  been  so  strung  to  the  key  of 
appreciation  of  the  wistful,  alluring,  passionate, 
melancholy  power  of  sound  as  they  were  to-night. 
As  all  those  human-throated  violins  before  her,  in 


STRUAN  107 

long  lines,  gave  out,  like  one  voice,  the  sound 
of  those  keenly  sweet  staccato  notes,  while  the 
bow-arms  of  the  players  moved  as  one,  and  the  au- 
dience remained  one  vast  hush,  and  Struan  stood 
there,  chief  among  that  great  assembly,  his  body 
erect  and  still,  while  his  right  arm  gently  beat  the 
time  to  that  delicious  melody,  it  seemed  to  Jenny, 
who  had  lost  sight  of  orchestra  and  audience  alike, 
that  that  voice  of  music  was  created  by  his  touch 
upon  the  air,  and  that  it  spoke  to  her  alone.  She 
felt  that  she  would  die  to  have  some  sign  from 
him. 

Then  remembrance  came  back ;  and  the  hope- 
lessness of  such  a  possibility  made  her  so  wretched 
that  she  began  to  feel  that  she  could  not  stand  it, 
and  must  go  away. 

When  the  waltz  was  finished,  the  loud  ap- 
plause was  all  the  more  noticeable  for  the  calm 
that  had  gone  before.  As  it  was  subsiding,  Jenny 
heard  the  girl  beside  her  say  : 

"  Do  look  at  Struan.  How  still  he  stands ! 
He  wants  the  orchestra  to  have  the  whole  glory 
of  that  applause.  Good  gracious  !  Some  innocent 
is  sending  him  flowers.  I'm  glad  of  it.  It  makes 
him  so  cross,  and  I  love  to  see  him  frown." 

But  any  who  expected  him  to  frown  were  dis- 
appointed. As  the  flowers,  a  great  bundle  of  red 


108  STRUAN 

roses,  with  long  dark  green  stems  and  leaves,  were 
handed  up  to  him,  he  reached  for  them  with  a 
smile.  Then,  after  bowing  quickly,  he  took 
them,  with  a  manner  of  great  directness,  and  laid 
them  gently,  almost  lingeringly,  on  a  certain 
corner  of  the  dais.  This  done,  he  glanced  toward 
the  audience,  a  brief,  bright  smile  touching  his 
face,  and  a  look  so  concentrated  in  his  eyes  that  it 
pierced  almost  painfully  to  one  heart. 

"  What  on  earth  has  come  over  him  ?  "  Jenny 
heard  her  neighbor  say  at  the  same  moment  that 
Struan  turned  his  back  and  gave  the  signal  to 
begin  the  next  selection. 

All  the  blood  in  Jenny's  body  had  seemed  to 
change  its  course,  and  flow  backward  to  her  heart, 
of  late  so  miserable,  now  so  passionately  glad. 
She  knew  that  it  had  been  a  signal  to  her ;  and  it 
was  as  potent  and  as  fully  comprehended  as  if 
over  the  heads  of  all  those  people  between  her  and 
the  stage  there  flaunted  a  banner  bearing  the  sweet 
word  "Joy." 

It  was  that  note  which  rang  out  above  the 
thousand  others  coming  from  the  orchestra  now, 
and  Jenny  sat  as  in  a  trance  of  bliss. 

She  hardly  knew  what  happened  after  that.  She 
was  as  quiet  as  a  mouse  in  her  place  among  all 
those  unknowing  people,  who  sat  with  friends 


STRUAN  109 

about  them  and  talked  animatedly  between  the 
selections.  She  had  no  one  to  speak  to,  but  she 
no  longer  felt  alone.  The  sense  of  a  glorious, 
wonderful  companionship  which  possessed  her 
made  them  seem  the  lonely  ones. 

At  the  end  of  the  concert  she  saw  Struan  cast 
around  the  house  a  penetrating,  rapid  glance,  which 
made  her  heart  beat  to  suffocation  as  it  passed  over 
her.  She  knew,  however,  that  she  could  be  no 
more  distinguishable  from  where  she  stood,  than 
one  of  the  bees  in  a  swarming  hive. 

She  saw  him  take  up  the  flowers  after  that  keen 
look,  and  walk  rapidly  across  the  stage,  and  dis- 
appear. 

Moving  slowly  from  her  place  with  the  great 
mass  of  people  who  crowded  the  aisle,  Jenny 
walked  silently  along,  absorbed  in  joyful  thoughts, 
and  unconscious  of  everything  and  every  person 
outside  her,  until  in  the  lobby  she  caught  a 
glimpse  of  an  object  that  made  her  heart  give 
a  sudden  leap. 

There,  near  the  entrance  door,  stood  Struan,  his 
overcoat  on  his  arm,  his  hat  in  his  hand.  A  little 
flutter  agitated  the  people  about  her  as  they  saw 
him.  Those  who  knew  him  craned  their  necks 
to  try  to  catch  his  eye,  and  get  a  bow  from  him. 
Those  who  did  not  know  him  gazed  respectfully 
at  those  who  did. 


no  STRUAN 

He  seemed  to  see  none  of  them.  With  his 
brows  contracted  and  his  eyelids  slightly  drawn 
together,  he  was  scanning  the  crowd  that  poured 
out  of  the  concert-room,  as  if  in  search  of  some- 
thing. Presently  his  gaze  fell  upon  Jenny,  and 
rested  there.  She  was  some  distance  off;  and  the 
crowd  moved  slowly,  so  that  he  had  to  wait. 

As  he  stood  so,  some  friends  came  by,  and  spoke 
to  him.  There  were  both  men  and  women  in  the 
party ;  and  he  shook  hands  in  his  cordial  way,  and 
replied  to  their  greetings  with  his  heart-warming 
smile. 

As  Jenny  came  along,  he  drew  away  from  their 
detaining  hand-grasps,  and,  walking  directly  up  to 
her,  said  in  his  simple  way  : 

"  Here  you  are,  at  last !  I  was  afraid  I  should 
never  find  you  in  this  crowd." 

He  offered  his  arm ;  and  Jenny  took  it,  con- 
scious that  she  was  being  looked  at  with  sudden 
interest  by  the  people  all  around,  and  proud  to  her 
soul  in  the  consciousness. 

He  spoke  to  her  now  and  then  as  they  passed 
down  the  steps  and  out  to  the  pavement ;  but  he 
did  not  look  at  her,  and  they  were  only  conven- 
tional and  unimportant  words  that  he  said.  He 
stood  looking  for  his  carriage,  scanning  the  vehicles 
about  him  with  keen  eyes  under  knitted  brows. 


STRUAN  in 

Jenny  glanced  up  at  him  now  and  then,  but  the 
sight  of  his  face  so  near  her  made  her  heart  throb 
.•n  such  a  way  that  she  forced  herself  to  look  in 
another  direction.  Once  he  said,  speaking  lowly, 
as  they  seemed  for  a  moment  to  be  isolated  in  that 
great  crowd  : 

"  It's  all  right,  Jenny.  Don't  be  unhappy  any 
more,  Jenny.  I  have  something  good  to  tell  you 
by  and  by." 

But,  even  as  he  uttered  these  words,  his  frown 
did  not  relax,  and  his  eyes  were  roving  over  the 
carriages  in  front  of  him,  as  if  his  search  absorbed 
him  entirely. 

At  last  they  were  seated  side  by  side.  He  felt 
for  her  hand,  and  held  it  close,  though  he  turned 
his  face  toward  the  window  ;  and  presently  he  pro- 
duced from  under  the  folds  of  his  top-coat  the  great 
bunch  of  red  roses  that  gave  out  a  sweet,  half- 
wilted  perfume  from  their  drooped  and  heavy  heads. 

"  Here  are  your  flowers,  Jenny,"  he  said.  "  Did 
you  see  what  I  did  with  them,  and  did  you  under- 
stand ?  " 

The  long  strain  of  joy  had  been  too  much  for 
Jenny.  She  began  to  tremble  violently,  while  she 
spoke  in  sobbing  gasps. 

"  O  my  love  —  my  master  —  my  king  —  my 
darling !  "  she  said  brokenly  ;  and,  throwing  her- 


STRUAN 

self  back  in  the  corner  of  the  carriage,  she  burst 
into  passionate  tears. 

"  Why,  Jenny,  what  is  this  ? "  he  said,  not 
venturing  to  move  closer  to  her,  but  pressing  her 
hand  in  a  tightened  grasp.  "You  mustn't  cry,  my 
darling.  Everything  has  come  right,  just  as  you 
wanted  it.  Don't  you  understand  why  I  did  not 
hesitate  to  claim  you  and  bring  you  off  in  sight  of 
all  that  crowd  ?  My  mind  is  made  up  forever. 
You  are  to  be  my  wife.  Don't  cry,  my  Jenny. 
You  make  me  wild.  I  cannot  take  you  in  my 
arms  and  comfort  you,  with  these  accursed  lights 
blazing  upon  us  at  every  step  of  the  way.  But 
comfort  you  I  will,  for  every  sorrow  you  have  ever 
known  and  every  one  that  shall  touch  your  life  in 
the  years  to  come.  I  can  make  you  happy,  my 
little  loved  one ;  and  I  will.  If  I  were  not  sure 
I  could  do  this,  I'd  let  you  go ;  but  I  do  know 
that  I  can  give  you  such  joy  as  you  have  never 
dreamed.  The  time  is  near,  my  Jenny,  when  we 
shall  be  man  and  wife." 

As  he  spoke,  he  got  his  arm  around  her,  though 
he  came  no  nearer,  and  his  face  was  still  turned 
from  her. 

The  agitation  of  her  heart,  told  so  plainly  by 
the  trembling  of  her  little  childish  body,  moved 
him  deeply,  as  the  touch  of  his  strong  arm  moved 


STRUAN  113 

her.  She  had  no  share  in  his  scruples  and  self- 
restraint.  Moved  only  by  the  ardor  of  her  love, 
she  threw  herself  upon  his  breast,  and  clung  to 
him  with  both  arms  around  his  neck. 

He  could  not  cast  her  off,  and  for  an  instant 
he  yielded  to  her  ardent  embrace.  But  he  did  not 
lose  his  consciousness  of  external  things ;  and, 
while  she  still  clung  to  him  and  tried  to  draw  him 
close,  he  disengaged  her  arms,  and  managed  to 
put  her  back  in  her  corner  of  the  carriage. 

Jenny,  for  her  part,  felt  aggrieved  and  even 
irritated. 

"  Oh,  what  does  it  matter  ?  "  she  said.  "  Sup- 
pose the  whole  world  sees  us  !  I  want  your  arms 
around  me,  and  your  kisses,  and  your  love.  I 
have  been  without  you  for  so  long." 

"  And  I,  too,  without  you,  my  Jenny,"  he 
answered  with  a  fervor  as  great  as  her  own ;  "  but 
that  loneliness  is  past  for  both  of  us.  We  have 
not  long  to  wait  for  each  other  now.  Ah !  Jenny, 
if  it  is  so  that  I  am  the  bringer  of  joy  to  you, 
judge  what  you  are  to  me.  If  only  I  can  make 
you  happy  ! " 

This  to  him  was  the  essential  point.  He  did 
not  realize  that  it  was  so  to  her,  also.  Of  course, 
she  wanted  him  to  be  happy ;  but  the  craving  of 
her  nature  was  for  personal  present  joy,  and  she 
chafed  at  the  delay. 


STRUAN 

u  You  cannot  dream,  I  could  not  describe  to 
you,"  Struan  went  on,  "  the  hideous  disappoint- 
ment of  my  first  marriage, —  the  years  of  my 
young  life  that  were  spent  in  a  bewildered  effort 
to  crush  out  my  natural  and  God-given  feelings, 
and  render  myself  the  bloodless,  crippled  creature 
that  I  foolishly  thought  for  a  while  that  I  ought 
to  make  it  my  object  to  be  !  If  you  could  con- 
ceive of  the  hard  endurance  of  the  years  of  that 
marriage  and  the  intolerable  loneliness  that  came 
after  it,  you  would  realize  how  much  you  are  to 
me,  how  I  am  half  blinded  by  the  joy  that  has 
come  to  me  through  you.  To  be  loved  as  you 
will  love  me,  Jenny,  with  such  pure  passion,  such 
surrender  of  self,  such  generous  affection  and 
friendship  as  I  shall  find  in  you,  is  to  realize  on 
earth  a  dream  that  I  had  put  aside  to  have  fulfilled 
in  some  far  distant  star,  which  should  be  my 
heaven.  The  heaven  of  the  orthodox  would 
never  do  for  me,"  he  said  in  a  voice  that  sounded 
of  his  smile,  "  until  I  had  lived  once  and  tasted 
once  the  joy  of  human  love,  as  God  has  ordered 
it  for  men  and  women.  The  spiritual  joys  of 
heaven  may  be  better,  but  they  cannot  be  the 
same ;  and  I  want  the  other  first.  The  pure  de- 
light of  giving  help  one  to  the  other  could  never 
be  in  a  world  where  help  was  not  needed.  The 


STRUAN  115 

rapture  of  sympathy  exchanged  between  married 
friends  and  comrades  could  not  be  in  a  world  with- 
out human  nature  and  without  sorrow.  The  su- 
preme delight  of  love's  sufficiency  to  compensate 
for  every  lack  could  not  exist  where  there  were  no 
lacks,  and  so  no  room  for  compensation.  Ah ! 
Jenny,  if  I  have  ever  rebelled  at  my  lot,  it  has 
been  only  at  missing  the  supreme  happiness  of 
human  love.  I  had  thought  that  I  was  to  re- 
nounce it  forever ;  and  now  I  seem  to  feel  the 
gentle  reproach  of  the  term,  cye  of  little  faith.'  " 

Jenny  made  no  answer;  and  he  somehow  got 
the  impression  that  she  was  preoccupied,  and  per- 
haps had  not  followed  him  closely.  This  was 
true.  She  was  all-absorbed  in  the  thought  that 
they  were  nearing  home,  and  that  there  was  a 
great  hunger  unappeased  within  her  breast.  She 
had,  in  this  strange  way,  become  engaged  to 
Struan  ;  and  her  passionate  heart  was  oppressed  by 
its  need  to  seal  the  compact  with  the  kiss  of  love. 
With  her  usual  candor,  she  said,  as  the  carriage 
was  stopping : 

"  Oh,  I  did  want  you  to  give  me  one  kiss." 
"  And  so  did  I  want  that  kiss,  my  Jenny,"  he 
said  ;  "  but  never  mind.      Come  for  your  lesson  at 
the  usual  time  to-morrow,  and  I  shall  have  some- 
thing new  and  wonderful  to  teach  you," 


VII 

STRUAN  had  asked  for  three  days'  time  and 
consideration  to  make  up  his  mind   as  to 
the  future  of  Jenny  and   himself;   but  he 
had   reached   his  decision   in   a  moment.      Indeed, 
before   the   sound   of  Jenny's   footsteps    had    died 
away  when   she   had   left   his   office  after  her  last 
lesson,  his  decision  had  been  taken.      He  had  de- 
termined to  marry  her. 

The  reasons  for  this  decision  were  twofold. 
First  was  his  thought  of  her.  He  realized  that 
what  she  said  was  true, —  that  she  loved  him  inevi- 
tably, and  with  a  passion  which,  if  thwarted,  might 
wreck  her  life.  Whether  he  had  been  to  blame 
or  not  for  having  roused  this  feeling  in  her,  there 
the  feeling  was  ;  and  it  had  now  become  his  re- 
sponsibility. Men  are  more  apt  than  women  to 
marry  for  this  unselfish  reason, —  to  secure  the 
happiness  of  the  other  rather  than  of  themselves ; 
and  Struan  now  felt  it  an  obligation  to  marry 
Jenny  for  her  own  sake.  This  being  so,  the  sec- 
ondary element  which  entered  into  the  case,  a  self- 
ish element,  was  the  more  readily  ertfertained. 
This  consisted  of  his  love  for  Jenny,  a  feeling 
116 


STRUAN  117 

as  undeniable  as  hers  for  him.  When  once  he 
had  come  to  look  upon  this  marriage  as  his  duty 
to  her,  the  delight  of  it  to  himself  almost  over- 
whelmed him.  The  contrast  of  this  young  girl's 
ardent,  wild,  untrammelled  nature  with  the  cold, 
repellent,  forbidding  temperament  of  Rachel  was 
poignant  enough.  He  would  make  her  happy, 
please  God  !  He  would  reward  her  for  her  blind, 
unquestioning  trust  in  him. 

He  did  not  reflect  that  his  trust  in  her  was  just 
as  blind,  that  he  knew  little  of  her  in  reality. 
He  felt  only,  in  the  first  place,  that  he  ought  to 
and  could  make  her  happy,  and,  in  the  second, 
that  he  would  be  made  happy  himself  by  marriage 
with  such  a  sweet  young  being,  who  so  passion- 
ately loved  him. 

So  he  had  not  a  vestige  of  doubt  after  Jenny 
left  him  that  Wednesday  morning.  He  felt  that 
duty,  as  well  as  inclination,  urged  him  to  give 
himself  to  this  young  girl,  who  had  so  generously 
and  unstintedly  given  herself  to  him. 

It  was  because  of  these  two  reasons  that  Jenny 
triumphed.  Duty,  apart  from  inclination,  would 
not  have  sufficed.  Neither  would  inclination 
apart  from  duty.  But  both  together  were  absolute, 
and  there  was  no  hesitancy  left  in  his  mind.  He 
would  force  himself,  however,  to  wait  the  three 


n8  STRUAN 

days  out.  He  knew  the  danger  of  precipitancy  in 
such  matters,  and  the  very  strength  of  his  decision 
made  him  determine  to  be  deliberate  and  to  allow 
this  interval  agreed  upon  to  go  by  without  another 
meeting.  Deep,  deep  within  his  secret  heart  there 
remained  yet  a  misgiving;  but  it  was  too  faint 
in  itself,  too  crowded  down  by  the  emotions  of  de- 
light to  which  he  had  now  abandoned  himself,  to 
count  for  very  much.  And,  since  his  mind  was 
made  up,  since  happiness  was  so  near,  he  felt 
willing  and  able  to  make  this  concession  to  reason, 
and  to  wait  patiently  for  the  appointed  time. 

So,  when  he  got  her  note  at  the  concert  that 
evening,  he  gave  himself  up  unrestrainedly  to  the 
consciousness  of  joy  which  her  presence  gave  him  ; 
and  the  music  of  his  splendid  orchestra  made  a 
divine  accompaniment  to  it.  It  was  an  hour  of 
almost  supreme  pleasure  to  him.  Indeed,  it  would 
have  been  without  a  cloud  but  for  the  thought  of 
Leonard. 

He  would  have  liked  to  tell  Leonard  before 
taking  such  a  serious  step  ;  but  he  knew  the  boy's 
ardent  belief  and  trust  in  him,  and  that  that  feeling 
would  make  everything  right. 

So,  after  long  years  of  sorrow  and  denial,  joy 
had  come  to  him  at  last.  And  he,  even  he, 
Lucien  Struan,  was  to  be  a  loved  and  loving  hus- 


STRUAN  119 

band,  according  to  the  measure  of  the  stature  of 
a  man.  Life  had  been  incomplete  to  him  before; 
but  consummation,  sufficiency,  satisfaction,  had 
come  at  last. 

When  Jenny  went  as  usual  next  morning  to 
the  place  where  for  so  long  she  had  taken  her 
semi-weekly  singing-lesson,  it  was  very  wonderful 
to  feel  the  difference  in  her  own  consciousness  and 
to  contrast  it  with  the  unbroken  sameness  of  both 
the  animate  and  inanimate  objects  about  her. 
The  stolid  office-boy  looked  at  her  as  indifferently 
as  ever.  It  seemed  incomprehensible  that  no  one 
saw  the  marvellous  change,  which,  though  hidden 
within  her  breast,  seemed  to  Jenny  as  though 
written  in  large  characters  and  pinned  upon  her 
sleeve. 

When  she  passed  through  the  little  passage  that 
led  to  the  lesson-room,  her  heart  beat  so  violently 
that  she  could  plainly  hear  its  thick,  hard  thump- 
ing. She  opened  the  door.  There  was  a  large 
screen  before  it,  cutting  off  the  view  of  the  room; 
and  here  she  stopped  for  a  moment  to  get  a  much- 
needed  calm.  As  she  stood  so,  she  felt  as  really 
the  presence  behind  that  screen  as  if  her  hand 
had  touched  him. 

The  silence  on  both  sides  of  the  screen  was  in- 
tense as  she  came  forth  into  the  room. 


STRUAN 

There  he  was,  standing  erect  and  waiting,  the 
radiance  of  satisfied  love  glowing  on  his  face, 
his  arms  outstretched  to  receive  her. 

Without  hesitation  she  went  to  them,  and  felt 
herself  enfolded  in  an  infinite  sweetness. 

Afterward,  when  they  were  seated  together  on 
the  sofa,  they  spoke  practically  of  the  plans  for 
their  marriage.  He  wished  it  to  be  as  soon  as 
possible,  he  said,  and  asked  when,  at  the  earliest, 
she  could  be  ready.  Would  it  be  possible  in  a 
week,  he  inquired,  with  some  hesitation. 

"  It  would  be  perfectly  possible,  as  far  as  I'm 
concerned,  in  an  hour,"  Jenny  said,  "  or  whatever 
time  it  would  take  us  to  get  to  a  magistrate's 
office." 

Struan's  brows  contracted.  The  serene  joy  of 
his  face  was  shadowed  by  a  sudden  cloud.  There 
was  nothing  in  the  least  shocking  to  him  in  this 
girl's  absolute  freedom  from  a  modesty  that  he 
would  have  called  false.  Indeed,  he  saw  this  with 
a  certain  sense  of  exultation  after  the  opposite  ex- 
perience of  his  early  life.  What  had  disconcerted 
him  now  was  the  suggestion  which  she  had  made 
about  the  marriage  ceremony. 

"  A  magistrate  !  "  he  said.  "  Oh,  no,  Jenny. 
I  do  not  often  go  into  a  church,  but  I  feel  that 
I  must  be  married  to  you  in  a  different  sort  of 


STRUAN  121 

place  to  a  business  office.  You  are  so  young  and 
so  trustful  that  there  seems  to  me  to  be  a  very 
sacred  demand  on  me  in  this  marriage.  I  want  to 
feel,  in  every  possible  way,  that  I  call  down  the 
blessing  of  God  upon  it ;  and  I  want  to  put  a  ring 
on  your  finger  as  the  sign  of  an  eternal  union,  in 
the  name  of  the  Father  and  of  the  Son  and  of 
the  Holy  Ghost.  Whatever  that  form  may  mean, 
—  whether  or  not  there  exists  the  mystery  of  the 
Trinity, —  those  words  are  sacred  to  me  from  my 
childhood ;  and  I  could  never  consent  to  dispense 
with  a  religious  ceremony  between  you  and  me." 

"You  must  do  just  as  you  choose,"  said  Jenny. 
"  The  love  between  us  is  the  only  necessity  that  I 
see,  and  the  ring  put  on  my  finger  with  the  decla- 
ration of  that  love  would  be  the  only  ceremony  I 
should  find  essential." 

Struan's  brow  remained  clouded  as  he  listened 
to  these  words.  To  wipe  the  cloud  away,  she 
kissed  it.  He  had  been  so  long  a  stranger  to  such 
sweet  blandishments  that  a  smile  of  light  came 
over  his  face. 

"  Yes,  we  must  be  married  in  a  church,  and  by 
a  religious  ceremony,"  he  said,  tenderly  stroking 
her  hand.  "  However,  dear,"  he  added,  noticing 
that  Jenny's  attention  was  wandering  (she  had 
been  trying  to  stretch  her  little  finger  and  thumb 


122  STRUAN 

around  his  big  wrist,  and  was  smiling  to  see  how 
much  it  lacked),  "  we  needn't  bother  about  details 
now,  as  you  say  you  will  leave  it  all  to  me.  I 
know  a  little  church  on  the  seashore,  within  the 
sound  of  the  breakers  ;  and  the  clergyman  is  a  man 
I  have  long  known  and  loved.  We  will  go  to 
him,  Jenny  mine,  and  get  him  to  seal  the  bond 
which,  by  the  mingling  in  our  hearts  of  the  pure 
essence  of  love,  has  made  us  already  in  spirit  man 
and  wife." 

He  said  these  words  so  seriously,  fixing  his  eyes 
on  her  with  a  look  so  intense  in  its  gravity,  that 
Jenny  was  half  bewildered  and  half  frightened. 

"  It  does  not  seem  to  make  you  very  happy," 
she  said.  "  You  look  as  solemn  as  if  you  were 
talking  about  a  funeral  instead  of  a  wedding." 

"  It's  the  more  solemn  of  the  two,"  he  said. 
"  I  want  you  to  realize,  Jenny,  how  solemn  it  is. 
When  you  do  not,  I  seem  to  myself  to  be  taking 
advantage  of  your  youth.  I  can't  forget  that  I  am 
twenty-three  years  older  than  you,  with  all  the 
knowledge  of  those  years  stored  up  in  me,  in  an 
experience  which  sometimes  makes  my  heart  feel 
aged  indeed.  I  was  growing  old  fast  enough,  Jenny, 
when  you  came  into  my  life  like  a  good  fairy,  and 
made  me  young  again, —  younger,  in  some  ways, 
than  I  ever  felt  before  !  I  imagine  that  the  stir- 


STRUAN  123 

ring  of  the  sap  at  springtime  through  the  trunk 
and  limbs  of  a  matured  and  well-grown  tree  is  a 
stronger  current  than  the  force  which  sends  out  the 

o 

tender  shoots  and  leaves  on  a  sapling.  I  never 
felt  myself  more  vivid  than  I  feel  now.  The 
crude  virility  of  a  boy  is  not  to  be  compared  to  it. 
I  am  young  enough  for  you,  Jenny,  in  all  but  ex- 
perience ;  and  it  is  by  the  possession  of  that  that  I 
hope  to  save  your  dear  feet  from  many  snares  into 
which  my  own  have  fallen,  and  out  of  which  they 
have  not  been  wrenched  except  with  bitter  pain." 

Again  he  saw  that  Jenny's  thoughts  were  wan- 
dering. This  time  it  was  his  hair  which  occu- 
pied her.  She  laid  hold  of  the  somewhat  unruly 
locks  that  fell  about  his  forehead,  and  smoothed 
them  into  place.  Then  she  ventured  to  touch  the 
ends  of  his  mustache,  and  to  give  them  an  up- 
ward twist  away  from  the  curved  lines  of  the 
mouth. 

"  I  wish  I  didn't  feel  a  little  bit  afraid  of  you," 
she  said.  "  I  am  trying  my  best  to  make  myself 
not  feel  so,  but  you  take  everything  so  seriously." 

The  sternness  of  his  lips  relaxed  into  a  radiant 
smile,  showing  his  white  teeth  and  softening  all 
his  features.  With  an  impetuous  movement,  he 
caught  her  in  his  arms,  and,  pressing  her  head 
down  against  his  breast,  drew  back  a  little  and 
looked  at  her. 


i24  STRUAN 

"  Now  are  you  frightened  ? "  he  said,  kissing 
her;  "  and  now  —  and  now  —  and  noiu  ?  " 

An  ecstasy  of  delight  came  to  her  with  these 
kisses,  so  blended  as  they  were  of  playfulness  and 
fervor.  Low  little  ripples  of  laughter  broke  from 
her  girlish  lips,  while  her  young  eyes  mocked  and 
challenged  him.  He  pressed  her  to  him  till  she 
writhed  with  pain  and  laughter.  His  kisses  lin- 
gered on  her  lips  ever  longer  and  longer.  His 
face  grew  grave  again,  and  under  the  stern  influ- 
ence of  those  dominating  eyes  her  face  also  grew 
graver.  The  few  words  of  endearment  that  they 
uttered  were  spoken  in  whispers  lower  than  their 
breathing. 

At  last,  when  stillness  had  fallen  between  them, 
and  she  rested  quiet,  with  her  arms  about  his 
neck,  he  looked  deep  into  her  eyes,  as  if  his  spirit 
was  trying  to  touch  her  spirit  as  his  body  was 
touching  her  body. 

Jenny  met  his  look  a  little  wonderingly. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of?  "  she  said. 

"  Tell  me  first  your  thoughts.  What  were  you 
thinking  of  in  that  long  silence  ?  " 

"  About  my  wedding-dress,"  she  answered 
simply.  "  Of  course,  it  will  have  to  be  a  travel- 
ling costume,  but  I  was  thinking  whether  it 
would  look  best  made  with  a  waist  or  a  jacket." 


STRUAN  125 

He  loosed  his  arms  about  her,  and  put  her 
quietly  from  him.  She  could  not  see  his  face. 

"  Now  you  must  tell  me  your  thought,"  said 
Jenny,  as  he  stood  up. 

"  Not  now,  dear.  Don't  ask  me.  Often  my 
thoughts  are  too  solemn  to  be  spoken  out.  I  wish 
I  could  help  you  about  your  dress ;  but  I'm  sure 
it  will  be  all  right,  whatever  you  decide.  Every- 
thing you  wear  looks  pretty." 

Jenny's  face  grew  radiant. 

"  O,  you  dear ! "  she  said,  standing  up  and 
giving  his  elbows  a  shake,  while  she  looked  up  in 
his  face  with  a  more  ardent  expression  of  delight 
than  any  words  that  he  had  ever  spoken  to  her 
had  called  up. 

A  week  later  they  were  married  in  the  little 
church  by  the  sea.  Jenny  had  decided  on  the 
waist,  and  in  it  her  figure  was  as  smooth  and 
trim  as  that  of  a  real  Jenny  Wren.  She  looked 
girlishly,  beamingly  happy. 

Struan  undoubtedly  looked  too  old  for  her  that 
day,  though  at  times  his  face  was  lighted  with  a 
reflection  of  her  young  joy.  In  the  main,  how- 
ever, it  was  serious ;  and  more  than  once  he  sighed. 


VIII 

STRUAN  and  Jenny  had  been  married  a 
year.  Jenny,  looking  back  upon  it,  ac- 
knowledged with  her  characteristic  honesty 
that  it  had  been  a  period  giving  evidence  of  as 
affectionate  and  steadfast  a  devotion  as  ever  man 
gave  woman.  Not  once,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
Struan  lived  in  an  atmosphere  of  feminine  adora- 
tion, had  he  given  cause  for  one  twinge  of  doubt 
or  jealousy.  His  care  of  her,  his  sensitive  pro- 
tectingness,  were  almost  tiresomely  scrupulous ; 
for  she  was  a  wild  thing,  and  even  the  restraints 
of  love  were  irksome  to  her  at  times. 

They  had  gone  to  housekeeping  immediately 
after  their  return  from  their  wedding  journey,  in 
a  pretty  house,  with  garden  and  grounds,  in  one  of 
the  suburbs  of  New  York.  Struan  had  always 
avoided  society  :  first,  because  he  did  not  like  it ; 
and,  secondly,  because  he  had  no  time  for  it.  He 
was  a  very  hard-worked  man,  and  the  new  ex- 
perience of  a  pretty  rural  home  where  a  loving 
wife  awaited  his  coming  was  to  him  a  blissful 
refuge  after  a  hard  day's  work ;  and  Jenny  made 
him  a  good  housekeeper  and  a  loving  wife. 
126 


STRUAN  127 

She  lived,  in  this  new  existence,  in  a  degree  of 
comfort  and  ease  such  as  she  had  never  known 
before.  There  was  no  occasion  for  luxury  or 
splendor;  but  her  husband  constantly  gave  her 
charming  presents,  which  delighted  her. 

Struan,  who  had  a  host  of  friends,  introduced 
some  of  these  to  Jenny ;  but,  as  a  rule,  she  found 
them  dull.  Of  course,  he  had  a  large  acquaintance 
among  theatrical  people  ;  and  it  was  this  set  whose 
society  Jenny  would  have  liked.  But,  except  in 
£  few  cases,  Struan  did  not  desire  this  society  for 
her ;  and  these  exceptions  that  he  made  were 
chosen  for  the  very  qualities  which,  to  Jenny, 
detracted  from  their  desirability.  She  thought 
them,  both  men  and  women,  too  grave  and 
thoughtful  or  too  concentrated  in  their  work  to 
be  agreeable.  Her  old  taste  for  light  opera  re- 
vived, and  Struan,  to  gratify  her,  wearied  him- 
self by  taking  her  often  ;  but,  when  she  wanted 
him  to  go  with  her  behind  the  scenes  and  to  intro- 
duce her  to  the  various  singers  and  dancers, 
he  declined,  always  kindly,  but  decidedly.  Then 
Jenny  would  pout,  and  he  would  sigh  and  look 
troubled ;  and  then  they  would  kiss  and  make 
friends,  and  declare  that  all  was  right  again.  And 
so  it  would  be,  until  the  next  disagreement  in 
taste  or  inclination  between  them ;  and,  as  time 
went  on,  these  came  more  frequently. 


128  STRUAN 

Sometimes  he  reproached  himself  with  forgetting 
how  young  she  was  and  how  she  must  need  con- 
genial companionship  ;  and  under  this  impulse  he 
encouraged  her  to  make  friends  with  the  neigh- 
bors, a  class  of  people  whom  he  personally 
found  distasteful.  Still,  if  Jenny  liked  them,  and 
if  she  found  some  amusement  in  them  during  the 
long  hours  in  which  he  was  obliged  to  leave 
her  alone,  he  forced  himself  to  put  up  with  their 
narrow  point  of  view  and,  in  many  cases,  com- 
monness, and  tried  to  persuade  himself  that  it  was 
the  natural  bond  of  youth  which  made  them  ac- 
ceptable to  Jenny.  He  saw  no  serious  ground  of 
objection  to  them  ;  and,  if  they  gave  pleasure  to 
Jenny,  he  resolved  to  make  the  best  of  them.  In 
reality,  he  saw  but  little  of  them  ;  for  they,  one  and 
all,  stood  rather  in  awe  of  him,  and  preferred  to 
make  their  visits  to  Jenny  during  his  absence  in 
the  city. 

Two  pleasures  and  resources  Jenny  had  which 
gave  her  great  satisfaction.  One  was  her  music, 
which  she  practised  assiduously,  keeping  up  regu- 
larly her  lessons  with  Struan.  The  other  was 
dress.  She  now  had  the  money  to  indulge  her 
taste  for  pretty  clothes ;  and  she  spent  a  great  deal 
of  her  time  at  the  dressmaker's,  being  fitted  and 
deciding  on  costumes.  She  had  been  too  long 


STRUAN  129 

accustomed  to  consider  the  value  of  money  to  be 
wasteful  now ;  but  she  allowed  herself  a  good  deal 
of  indulgence  in  the  matter  of  dress,  expending 
much  ingenuity  in  satisfying  her  taste  with  as  little 
outlay  as  possible.  This  took  her  to  the  city 
shops  a  good  deal,  and  there  she  found  unlimited 
amusement.  Her  neighbors  copied  her  costumes, 
and  took  her  for  their  model  of  fashion  and  good 
taste.  Struan  also  noticed  and  admired  her  new 
clothes,  though  she  felt  at  times  a  certain  quali- 
fiedness  in  his  praise.  She  did  not  especially 
heed  this,  however,  as  she  considered  his  taste 
severe.  She  was  much  pleased  to  see  the  peo- 
ple on  the  street  —  men,  women,  or  children, 
it  mattered  little  to  her  —  looking  at  her  with 
pleasure  in  her  charming  figure,  fresh  young 
face,  and  pretty  clothes.  She  was  quite  aware 
that  without  the  third  the  two  first  might  have 
gone  unnoticed. 

Besides  these  two  sources  of  interest,  Struan 
took  her  often  to  the  opera  and  theatre.  Some- 
times they  went  off  for  a  week's  jaunt  somewhere, 
for  a  little  change  of  scene. 

Despite  the  new  and  unquestionable  comfort  of 
having  for  his  wife  a  loving  and  broad-minded 
woman,  Struan  was  at  times  sadder  than  he  had 
ever  been  in  his  life.  He  scarcely  owned  the 


130  STRUAN 

fact  to  himself,  and  he  never  made  any  effort  to 
account  for  it.  He  was  conscious,  for  one  thing, 
that  he  missed  his  son  ;  but  he  did  not  directly 
attribute  this  lack  to  his  marriage  with  Jenny, 
though,  but  for  that  marriage,  the  intercourse  be- 
tween Leonard  and  himself  would  certainly  have 
^een  freer.  He  had  always  looked  forward  to 
having  Len  with  him,  when  he  left  school.  That 
time  was  over  now,  for  Len  had  written  that  he 
did  not  want  to  give  up  years  of  his  life  to  study- 
ing a  profession,  but  desired  to  put  into  effect  now 
the  desire  which  he  had  always  had, —  to  become 
an  artist, —  and  he  wished  to  remain  in  Paris  to 
study. 

This  decision,  which  would  once  have  been  a 
blow  to  Struan,  because  it  involved  a  longer  sepa- 
ration from  his  son,  came  now  in  the  light  of  a 
relief.  Leonard  had  taken  the  marriage  to  Jenny 
admirably.  The  fact  that  it  was  the  choice  and 
decision  of  his  father  was  enough  for  him.  He 
had  written  to  Struan  a  splendid  letter,  taking  the 
attitude  of  man  to  man  rather  than  that  of  son  to 
father,  and  revealing,  in  spite  of  delicate  loyalty 
to  his  mother's  memory,  a  comprehension  of  the 
pain  and  mistakenness  of  that  first  marriage  which 
stirred  Struan  to  the  profoundest  depths  of  his 
heart.  He  did  not  show  this  letter  to  Jenny.  It 


STRUAN  131 

was  sacred  between  his  son  and  himself;  and  he 
felt,  somehow,  that  it  would  not  get  its  true  rec- 
ognition from  her.  Leonard  had  written  a  letter 
to  Jenny,  also, —  a  perfect  letter,  so  his  father 
thought ;  but  there  had  been  a  fineness,  a  subtlety, 
in  it  which  had  puzzled  Jenny  a  good  deal,  and 
made  her  say  quite  helplessly  : 

"  Do  I  have  to  answer  it  ?  " 

"  Not  necessarily,"  Struan  had  said.  "  I'll  send 
him  a  message  of  thanks  for  it,  if  you  would  pre- 
fer that." 

Jenny  thought  that  she  would  prefer  it,  de- 
cidedly. 

And  Struan,  in  spite  of  himself,  felt  glad  that 
Jenny  decided  not  to  write.  The  few  letters 
which  he  had  received  from  her,  during  his  rare 
absences  since  their  marriage,  revealed  to  him  the 
rather  meagre  lines  of  Jenny's  education  ;  and  he 
felt  that  it  would  be  better  for  Leonard  to  see  her 
before  he  heard  from  her,  when  the  charm  of  her 
grace  and  beauty  would  do  its  part  in  the  im- 
pression. 

And  yet,  when  he  thought  of  Leonard  and 
Jenny  face  to  face,  there  was  something  in 
the  idea  that  grated  on  him.  She  was  certainly 
pretty, —  undeniably  so  ;  but  Leonard  was  difficult. 
Young  men  were  apt  to  be  so.  Would  he  not 


132  STRUAN 

consider  Jenny  a  little  overdressed,  a  little  self- 
assertive, —  a  little  noisy,  even,  perhaps,  a  little  — 

He  would  not  say  the  word  common.  It  're- 
mained unuttered  even  in  his  mind,  but  the  ghost 
of  it  floated  there. 

Leonard  had  been  the  darling  of  Struan's  heart. 
He  had  had  the  boy  a  great  deal  with  him  before 
he  had  gone  off  to  school,  and  even  then  their  de- 
lightful companionship  had  been  renewed  at  every 
vacation  ;  and  they  had  taken  charming  trips  to- 
gether, and  had  had  talks  which  Struan  remem- 
bered as  among  the  most  inspiring  of  his  life. 
The  lad's  nature  was  almost  a  reproduction  of  his 
father's, —  sensitive,  intense,  emotional.  He  had 
also  the  same  love  for  the  beautiful  and  admira- 
tion for  the  good.  His  respect  and  affection  for 
his  father  was  almost  a  religion.  Whether  life 
would  prove  him  to  be  possessed  of  his  father's 
indomitableness  of  purpose  was  yet  to  be  seen. 
He  was  ardent,  impulsive,  pleasure-loving,  and  im- 
patient of  restraint.  His  father  had  talked  to  him 
as  frankly  about  life  and  its  temptations  as  if  he 
had  been  of  his  own  age,  so  that  from  a  child  he 
had  had  none  of  the  morbid  speculations  and  im- 
aginings which  so  often  sully  the  minds  of  the 
young.  In  fact,  Struan  had  had  a  greater  sense 
of  companionship  with  Leonard  than  with  any 


STRUAN 

other  creature ;  and  now,  after  a  year  of  marriage 
with  Jenny,  he  felt  the  same. 

And  Jenny  herself?  At  first  the  supreme  joy 
and  glory  of  being  Struan's  wife  were  sufficient  for 
her,  and  it  was  without  effort  that  she  had  told 
him  that  she  was  perfectly  happy.  Her  fiery  love 
for  him,  which  had  in  it  all  the  romance  of  girl- 
hood and  all  the  passion  of  womanhood  combined, 
made  it  seem  enough,  for  one  year,  simply  to 
exist  for  this  love.  That  year  had  been,  as  she 
said,  perfectly  happy. 

It  was  a  necessity  to  Struan  to  know  this,  the 
more  so  since,  had  Jenny  been  guilty  of  any  such 
feminine  apprehensions  as  to  inquire  into  his  state 
of  mind,  he  would  have  been  compelled  to  own  to 
himself,  whether  he  did  to  her  or  not,  that  he 
could  not,  with  truth,  say  the  same.  But  Jenny 
never  asked  troublesome  questions.  She  took  his 
happiness  for  granted,  seeing  that  he  had  what 
represented  to  her  all  its  essential  conditions.  In- 
deed, so  free  from  analysis,  introspection,  vague 
misgivings,  and  other  commonly  conceded  femi- 
nine attributes  was  Jenny  that  the  part  of  his 
nature  with  which  she  was  able  to  sympathize 
least  was  what  might  be  called  the  womanly  in 
him.  She  had  none  of  the  little  finenesses  of  feel- 
ing which  gave  delicacy  to  his  strength.  There 


134  STRUAN 

were  a  thousand  tender  places  in  his  consciousness 
which  she  trod  on  unconsciously,  a  thousand  little 
wants  in  his  heart  which  she  could  not  possibly 
fill,  because  she  was  unaware  of  their  existence. 

Besides  this  lack  in  Jenny,  there  were  others 
which,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  Struan  was 
oppressed  by.  One  was  the  need  of  his  mind  for 
intellect :  another  was  the  need  of  his  soul  for 
religion.  Jenny  had  plenty  of  shrewdness  and 
common  sense  ;  but  she  was  as  unintellectual  as 
a  pretty,  sturdy  pony.  So  also  she  had  her  own 
sense  of  right  and  duty,  but  she  was  as  unreligious 
as  a  little  brown  wren.  Struan  was  a  bookish 
man,  and  kept  abreast  of  the  movements  of  litera- 
ture and  science  with  earnestness  and  ardor.  He 
was  also  essentially  a  spiritual  man  ;  and,  though 
he  felt  no  need  of  church-going  and  religious  ob- 
servances, there  was  no  necessity  which  was  so 
strong  in  him  as  the  possession  of  a  belief,  and 
the  consciousness,  not  only  of  the  existence,  but 
of  the  fatherhood  of  God,  and  the  certainty, 
without  which  his  present  life  would  have  been 
unreal,  of  a  future  life,  where  intellect  should 
be  expanded  and  love  enlarged  beyond  present 
imagining. 

He  was  many-sided,  and  what  he  craved  was 
sympathy  in  all.  A  marriage  which  failed  to 


STRUAN  135 

satisfy  any  of  the  three  necessities  of  his  nature  — 
soul,  mind,  and  body  —  would  necessarily  possess 
for  him  a  bitter  incompleteness.  His  first  mar- 
riage had  had  none  of  the  three  essential  elements. 
His  second  marriage  had  but  one.  So  now,  at 
the  end  of  this  year,  his  heart  was  almost  as 
hungry  as  ever ;  and,  in  his  true  and  inner  self,  he 
was  as  utterly  alone. 

All  this  he  knew,  though  he  kept  the  con- 
sciousness of  it  veiled  even  in  his  own  mind. 
He  worked  harder  and  harder,  put  out  feelers  of 
sympathy  in  every  direction,  befriended  at  every 
turn  the  poor  and  the  lonely,  delved  passionately 
at  his  beloved  art,  to  the  end  that  it  might  touch 
more  and  more  widely  the  manifold  issues  of  life, 
was  every  day  gentler  and  kinder  to  Jenny. 

He  possessed,  however,  but  one  pure  and  un- 
sullied source  of  refreshment  j  and  that  was  in 
his  son. 

Leonard's  first  year  of  study  in  Paris  was  now 
over,  and  he  was  coming  home  for  a  visit.  So 
Struan  was  to  have  his  boy  with  him  for  a  while 
before  he  should  settle  down  to  his  career  in  life. 
It  would  have  been  a  keen  and  perfect  pleasure 
for  Struan  to  look  forward  to  —  except  for  Jenny. 

One  sorrow  Struan  was  spared.  Nothing  had 
ever  caused  him  to  suspect  that  there  was  a  secret 


136  STRUAN 

consciousness  in  Jenny's  bosom  also,  through 
which  she  had  begun  to  wonder  whether  she  had 
not  made  a  mistake  in  this  marriage.  She  had 
got  used  to  the  idea  of  being  Lucien  Struan's  wife, 
and  the  magic  had  faded  from  it.  He  gave  her 
all  his  spare  time,  and  spent  all  his  unoccupied 
evenings  at  home ;  but,  after  the  first  few  months 
of  ardent  effort  to  raise  her  mind  to  the  level  of 
his  interests,  he  had  abandoned  the  task,  and  now 
he  found  it  often  very  difficult  to  make  talk  with 
Jenny.  He  was  conscious,  too,  of  an  effort  on 
her  side ;  and,  when  she  sometimes  tried  to  in- 
terest herself  in  the  subjects  that  were  so  all- 
important  to  him,  he  could  see  that  it  was  as  great 
a  mental  strain  as  it  was  to  him  to  enter  into  her 
interests. 

He  therefore  not  only  sanctioned,  but  encour- 
aged, her  to  make  friends  with  the  neighbors  ;  for, 
with  no  mental  interests,  he  could  imagine  how 
her  long  days,  when  he  was  in  the  city,  must 
weary  her.  There  was  a  certain  Mrs.  Wallis 
whom  Jenny  talked  of  a  great  deal,  and  with 
whom  she  seemed  to  spend  much  of  her  time. 
She  got  such  evident  pleasure  from  this  intercourse 
that  Struan  was  disposed  to  look  most  kindly 
upon  it,  and  wished  to  make  Mrs.  Wallis's  ac- 
quaintance. 


STRUAN  137 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  her  to  come  with  her  hus- 
band to  dinner  some  day  ? "  said  Struan.  He 
knew  nothing  whatever  of  this  couple ;  but  he 
never  cared  who  people  were,  so  long  as  they 
were  what  he  liked.  Still,  he  wanted  to  see  them 
on  this  latter  ground. 

"  Oh,  you  wouldn't  like  them.  They  are  not 
your  sort,"  Jenny  answered,  in  an  ofF-hand  way. 

"  But,  Jenny,  I  like  to  believe  that  your  sort 
and  my  sort  are  the  same." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Jenny,  laughing ;  "  but  we 
like  to  believe  a  great  deal  that  we  don't  believe." 

It  was  her  custom  to  be  blunt  and  honest,  and 
he  admired  it  in  her;  but,  somehow,  her  candor 
smote  upon  him  now.  It  was  the  first  acknowl- 
edgment between  them  of  the  least  disappoint- 
ment in  their  intercourse ;  and,  as  such,  it  gave 
Struan  pain. 

He  saw  no  sign  of  any  such  feeling  in  Jenny, 
however ;  and  so  he  said  nothing.  Later,  though, 
he  made  a  point  of  meeting  the  Wallises ;  and 
Jenny  was  obliged  to  take  him  to  call. 

The  visit  was  made  in  the  evening  after  dinner; 
and,  as  Jenny  had  notified  her  friend  that  they 
were  coming,  they  found  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wallis 
waiting  to  receive  them. 

Mr.    Wallis     proved    to    be    a    commonplace 


138  STRUAN 

business  man,  inoffensively  vulgar,  but  with  the 
saving  grace  of  unpretentiousness. 

Mrs.  Wallis  was  a  shock.  Feeling  very  much 
in  awe  of  Struan,  as  she  had  never  met  so  distin- 
guished a  man  before,  and  had  long  known  him  as 
a  distant  star  in  the  great  world's  horizon,  Mrs. 
Wallis  had  thought  it  proper  to  do  honor  to  the 
occasion  by  making  a  grand  toilet.  While  she 
felt  inwardly  flattered  and  fluttered  at  receiving  a 
visit  from  the  great  Struan,  she  was  one  of  that 
large  class  of  vulgar  people  who,  acting  according 
to  the  motto,  "  I  think  myself  as  good  as  any- 
body," covered  her  inherent  though  unacknowl- 
edged inferiority  under  a  manner  of  self-assertive 
confidence. 

When  Struan  was  introduced,  and  shook  hands 
in  his  cordial  way,  Mrs.  Wallis  responded  : 

"  I'm  reel  glad  to  see  you.  I've  been  reel 
anxious  to  meet  you.  Let  me  make  you  'quainted 
with  my  husband." 

The  kindness  of  Struan's  outward  manner  did 
not  change,  but  the  heart  within  him  was  sick. 
Was  this  Jenny's  chosen  friend,  the  spirit  she 
had  found  congenial, —  this  overdressed  woman, 
with  her  low-cut  gown  and  befrizzled  hair,  reek- 
ing with  the  scent  of  heavy  extracts,  and  gasping 
out  her  words  with  a  fluttered  manner  that  seemed 


STRUAN  139 

to  cast  an  atmosphere  of  excitement  over  the 
entire  room  ? 

This  excitement  manifested  itself  in  Mr.  Wallis 
by  a  wild  throwing  about  of  his  watch-chain,  half 
a  yard  of  which,  adorned  with  heavy  seals  and 
lockets,  swung  from  side  to  side  of  his  rotund 
body,  and  which  he  ceaselessly  jiggled  and  tossed, 
while  he  stood  wordless  in  the  shadow  of  his 
wife's  magnificence. 

And  she  did  cast  a  shadow,  huge  and  distinct ; 
for  a  bunch  of  electric  lights  behind  her,  swelling 
bulbously  out  of  many-hued  shades  made  in  the 
shape  of  flowers,  lighted  glaringly  this  hideous 
room  which  exemplified  the  ornateness  of  its  mis- 
tress's taste  as  much  as  did  her  costume. 

Jenny  herself  seemed  subdued  in  this  presence, 
and  seemed  to  have  nothing  to  say ;  but,  in  the 
silence  of  her  companions,  Mrs.  Wallis  saw  her 
opportunity. 

"  I've  been  telling  Jenny,"  she  rattled  on  (this 
familiarity  gave  Struan  another  shock),  "  that  seem- 
like  we  ought  to  know  one  another,  you  and  me 
and  Syd,  when  she  and  me  were  such  chums. 
We  have  certainly  enjoyed  having  some  congenial 
people  for  neighbors.  The  society  here  is  dread- 
fully mixed,  and  we  only  visit  a  few  families. 
Now,  if  you  and  Syd  just  like  each  other  as  well 
as  Jenny  and  me,  it'll  be  great." 


STRUAN 

Surely,  even  she  must  have  had  some  sense  of 
incongruity  as  she  looked  from  one  man  to  the 
other,  where  Struan  sat  a  perfect  exemplification 
of  the  repose  of  power,  while  opposite  him  sat  Mr. 
Wallis,  who,  at  this  direct  calling  attention  to 
him,  began  once  more  to  toss  his  watch-chain 
recklessly,  and,  in  lieu  of  speech,  smiled  in  an 
aimless  way. 

But  Mrs.  Wallis's  motto  was,  u  Make  much 
of  yourself,  if  you'd  have  others  make  much  of 
you " ;  and  she  fortified  herself  with  the  inward 
reflection  that  she  didn't  see  why  her  husband 
wasn't  as  good  as  any  other  woman's.  And  so, 
indeed,  she  didn't. 

Struan  made  some  politely  evasive  answer,  and, 
in  disgust  of  this  woman,  opened  a  conversation 
with  her  husband.  He  was  the  most  tolerant  of 
men, —  Struan  ;  and  there  was  no  form  of  vul- 
garity even  which  he  could  not  look  upon  with 
lenience.  It  was  not  Mrs.  Wallis's  vulgarity 
now  that  disturbed  him.  It  was  the  fact  that  the 
woman  whom  he  had  chosen  for  his  wife  had 
chosen  this  woman  for  her  friend. 

For  Struan,  in  his  heart,  had  never  given  a  mo- 
ment's harboring  to  the  suggestion  that,  in  the 
matter  of  his  marriage,  he  had  been  the  chosen 
rather  than  the  chooser.  He  would  never  lay  the 


STRUAN  141 

blame  for  this  marriage  on  any  one  but  himself, 
if  blame  there  should  be. 

Suppose  Jenny  had  made  the  advances,  and  run 
after  him.  He  had  his  wits  about  him,  his  sense 
of  right,  his  long  experience  of  life.  He  might 
have  withdrawn  at  the  proper  point.  That  he 
did  not  do  so  must,  whatever  came,  throw  the 
responsibility  of  the  marriage  where  it  rightly  be- 
longed,—  on  him. 

He  sat  now  making  talk  with  Mr.  Wallis,  and 
adroitly  lowering  himself  to  the  man's  level.  They 
had  got  on  politics  ;  and  here  Struan  had  ideas  of 
his  own, —  ideas  colored  with  his  own  passionate 
nature  and  indomitable  optimism.  He  therefore 
found  an  easy  ground  for  discussion  with  a  man 
who  had  but  one  single  notion  as  to  the  whole 
situation, —  that  everything  was  going  to  the  dogs 
double-quick. 

Even  to  the  men  who  understood  him,  Struan's 
ideas  were  apt  to  seem  Utopian  ;  but  he  was  ar- 
dently loved  by  his  friends,  and  they  loved  his 
theories  for  his  sake.  To  this  man,  however, 
equally  devoid  of  sympathy  and  of  imagination, 
he  was  evidently  so  great  a  puzzle  that,  for  all 
Struan's  easy  and  amiable  mariner,  the  talk  grew 
decidedly  strained. 

So  Mrs.   Wallis,  who  had  been   laughing  and 


H2  STRUAN 

talking  with  a  noisy  familiarity  to  Jenny,  saw  now 
her  chance  to  attract  Struan's  attention  to  herself. 
She  had  not  got  up  all  this  gorgeousness  for  noth- 
ing. 

"  Oh,  do  you  two  stop  your  everlasting  poli- 
tics !  "  she  said  coyly.  "  We  are  lots  more  in- 
teresting, ain't  we,  Jenny  ?  I  wish  there  was  no 
such  thing  as  politics  in  the  world.  I  don't  see 
the  use  of  it,  anyway.  I'm  coming  to  talk  to  Mr. 
Struan,  and  let  Syd  flirt  with  Jenny  for  a  while. 
I  can  see  he's  just  dying  to,  but  he's  that  bash- 
ful—  Go  on,  Syd,"  she  said,  giving  him  a  little 
push,  at  which,  with  rather  a  frightened  air,  he 
went  over  to  the  seat  next  Jenny,  while  his  wife 
took  his  place  by  Struan. 

"  It's  the  truth,"  she  said  in  a  confidential 
whisper,  putting  up  her  heavily  scented  fan  of 
white  feathers  and  speaking  behind  it.  "  He's  the 
bashfullest  man  you  ever  saw,  but  he  think's  your 
wife's  the  prettiest  woman  out.  And  he's  not  far 
wrong.  I'm  as  crazy  'bout  her  as  he  is.  It  ain't 
only  that  she's  so  pretty.  Lots  o'  people  are 
pretty.  But  I  care  a  heap  more  for  style ;  and, 
my  !  ain't  she  stylish  ?  Seems  like,  do  your  best 
and  pay  your  most,  other  folks  can't  get  to  look 
like  Jenny.  I  tell  her  so  to  her  face." 

What  could  Struan  say  ?      His  gentle  heart  was 


STRUAN  H3 

aching  for  her, —  the  poor  little  butterfly  that  he 
had  tried  to  turn  into  a  Psyche.  He  seemed  to 
see  clearly  at  last  that  all  she  wanted  was  a  day's 
basking  in  the  sunshine  of  life,  that  she  was  the 
symbol  of  a  soul,  but  not  a  soul. 

If  these  were  the  people,  if  this  was  the  com- 
panionship, in  which  she  found  pleasure,  how  he 
must  weary  her  with  his  distant  dreams  of  what 
was  perhaps  the  unattainable,  and  his  difficult 
strivings  to  get  out  of  the  present  and  into  some 
greater  and  better  future,  to  gain  which  meant 
ceaseless  self-dedication,  unremitting  toil  !  Long 
ago  he  had  proved  that  she  could  not  take  part  in 
his  ambitions  and  ideals.  She  had  once  said  to 
him  that,  when  he  had  gone  so  far  in  his  career  as 
to  have  a  big  name  and  a  good  income,  she  didn't 
see  what  more  he  wanted,  and  that  it  seemed  to 
her  foolish  to  work  so  hard.  He  had  said  nothing 
in  reply  ;  but  that  day  had  been  one  bitter  era  in 
his  experience,  and  this  was  another. 

As  they  were  walking  homeward  after  their 
visit  to  the  Wallises,  Jenny  said  abruptly  : 

"  I  knew  y°u  wouldn't  like  them.  I  never 
wanted  to  take  you,  so  you  can't  blame  me." 

"  Blame  you  !  How  could  I  ?  "  he  said  kindly. 
"  There  is  no  blame  in  the  matter." 

"  I  told  you  they  were  not  your  sort,"  she  said, 
a  certain  shade  of  resentment  in  her  tones. 


144  STRUAN 

"  They  are  not,"  he  said,  still  in  a  very  gentle 
tone.  "  Do  you  call  them  your  sort,  Jenny  ?  " 

He  felt  the  hand  upon  his  arm  stiffen  slightly, 
as  if  the  whole  figure  grew  more  tense. 

"  Yes  ! "  she  said,  half-defiantly.  "  I  do. 
What's  the  use  of  pretending  ?  I'm  not  clever, 
and  I  never  will  be.  I  don't  care  anything  about 
books  and  theories  and  ideas.  I  like  to  enjoy 
myself  with  people  that  don't  look  down  upon 
me,  and  that's  the  simple  truth." 

"  Look  down  upon  you,  Jenny  !  "  he  said  in  a 
hurt  tone.  "  My  child,  what  are  you  thinking 
of?" 

"  Not  you,"  she  said  in  hasty  amends.  "  I 
don't  mean  you.  You  are  lovely  to  me  always  ; 
but,  whether  you  admit  it  or  not,  the  people  that 
you  take  pleasure  in,  the  friends  that  you  have 
tried  and  tried  in  vain  to  make  my  friends,  you 
must  know  that  they  look  down  on  me,  that  they 
only  tolerate  me  for  your  sake." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Struan,  stoutly,  smothering 
a  little  inward  monition  that  contradicted  his 
spoken  words.  "  Many  of  my  friends  have  liked 
and  admired  you  for  yourself  alone." 

"  Oh,  they  think  me  pretty,  I  dare  say,  or  they 
admire  my  voice  or  consider  me  jolly  and  amus- 
ing. But  what  has  thinking  me  pretty  got  to  do 


STRUAN  i45 

with  really  liking  me  ?  And  what  do  I  care 
about  my  voice,  when  you  won't  let  me  sing  ?  " 

"  But  I  do  let  you  sing,"  he  began. 

"  Oh,  at  home  or  in  the  houses  of  your  friends  ! 
But  I  don't  care  for  that.  You  won't  let  me  go 
on  the  stage." 

Struan  winced  inwardly,  but  his  voice  was  with- 
out any  hint  of  it  as  he  answered  : 

"  And  do  you  still  cling  to  that  dream  ?  Would 
you  like  to  be  an  opera-bouffe  singer  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  would,"  said  Jenny,  doggedly.  "  It 
would  be  some  excitement,  some  pleasure,  and 
make  me  of  some  importance." 

"  It's  not  that  I  wouldn't  let  you,  Jenny.  You 
know  my  views  about  marriage, —  that  a  man  has 
no  more  right  to  hinder  his  wife  in  an  earnest 

O 

career  than  she  has  to  hinder  him.  I  have  never 
forbidden  you  to  do  this  thing ;  but  I  do  object  to 
it  and  wish  you  not  to  do  it,  not  because  I  exert 
any  husband's  authority  over  you,  but  because  I 
give  you  the  benefit  of  an  experience  that  began 
before  you  were  born." 

This  thought  reminded  him  of  Jenny's  youth, 
and  his  heart  grew  gentler  still  toward  her. 

"  Sometimes,"  he  said,  laying  his  hand  tenderly 
over  hers  as  they  walked  along, "  I  wonder  if  I  am 
not  too  old  for  you,  Jenny.  Sometimes  I  fear  you 
made  a  mistake." 


146  STRUAN 

"  I  have  never  attached  any  importance  to 
that,"  said  Jenny ;  "  and,  if  I  don't  think  you  too 
old  for  me,  it's  no  one  else's  business.  It  isn't 
that.  That's  not  the  trouble  at  all.  But  there's 
something,  else  why  did  I  feel  this  evening,  when 
I  saw  the  difference  between  you  and  the  Wallises, 
that  I  was  more  like  them  than  like  you  ?  " 

"  Did  you  feel  that  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,  I  did,"  she  said  stoutly ;  "  and  it  is  the 
truth.  I  am  better  educated  than  Ida  Wallis, 
because  I  was  ambitious  from  childhood  to  be  a 
singer ;  and  I  worked  for  that  purpose,  and  studied 
hard.  But  this  made  me  in  that  point  above  my 
family  and  friends,  though  I  am  not  so  in  other 
things.  If  you  think  the  Wallises  common,  as  I 
know  you  do,  I  wonder  what  you'd  think  of  the 
people  I  was  raised  among  and  am  related  to." 

"  What  have  I  to  do  with  that  ?  I  care  noth- 
ing whatever  about  it.  I  married  you,  and  not 
the  relations  you  have  outgrown  and  left  behind 
you.  But  tell  me  this  about  the  Wallises  :  don't 
you  think  them  common  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  do.  I  see  that  they  are,  because,  liv- 
ing with  you,  I  have  got  your  point  of  view.  In 
that  light,  I  am  common,  too." 

Struan  started.  His  grasp  upon  her  hand  tight- 
ened sternly. 


STRUAN  147 

"  Jenny,"  he  said,  "  don't  turn  this  subject  into 
ridicule.  It  is  a  serious  thing." 

"  I  know  it.  I  am  speaking  seriously ;  and, 
seriously,  I  tell  you  that  we  had  better  understand 
each  other.  I'm  not  up  to  you  in  mind,  in  breed- 
ing, in  association.  I  feel  it  all  the  time.  Even 
when  I  am  alone  with  you,  I  feel  it ;  for  I  can  see 
you  have  to  go  out  of  your  own  thoughts  and  in- 
terests when  you  talk  to  me,  and  I  can  see  the 
effort  it  costs  you.  And  it  is  such  an  effort  to  me 
to  climb  up  to  your  interests  that  —  being  more 
honest  than  you,  as  I  truly  think  —  I  don't  make 
the  effort.  When  you  come  to  think  of  it,  we 
have  very  little  common  ground." 

This  brutal  fact, —  so  evident  to  his  outward 
eyes,  so  sedulously  guarded  from  his  inward  vision, 
—  brought  thus  home  to  him,  in  Jenny's  out- 
spoken way,  was  a  blow  the  weight  of  which  she 
little  dreamed. 

He  did  not  speak  in  answer;  but  as  they  walked 
along,  and  now  let  themselves  in  at  their  own 
front  door,  she  had  a  certain  consciousness  of  his 
feeling  that  made  her  say  in  a  loving  sort  of  way : 

"  Don't  be  sorry  that  you  married  me,  Struan. 
It  was  more  my  fault  than  yours.  You  are  not 
sorry,  are  you  ?  " 

"  If  you  are  unhappy,  I  am." 


STRUAN 

44  I  am  not  exactly  unhappy,"  she  said,  kneeling 
in  a  wicker  rocking-chair  that  stood  in  the  hall, 
and  leaning  against  the  top  of  it  as  she  faced  and 
looked  at  him,  rocking  gently  all  the  time ;  "  but 
you  are  such  a  big,  broad-minded  man  that  I 
should  think  you  would  understand  how  I  feel  in 
this  perfect  self-effacement." 

44  Self-effacement !  Who  ever  wanted  you  to 
efface  yourself?  The  idea  is  hateful  to  me. 
What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

44  I  know  you  don't  want  it ;  but  how  can  it 
be  otherwise  ?  You  are  an  intellectual  and  impor- 
tant man,  with  ideas  far  greater  than  any  I  am 
capable  of.  Some  women  could  find  a  career  in 
sharing  and  helping  you  in  these.  I  can't.  It 
isn't  in  me.  Simply,  they  are  uninteresting  to  me. 
That's  all  there  is  about  it.  As  long  as  you  dis- 
approve of  my  making  myself  a  career  in  the 
only  way  that  I  can,  there  is  nothing  for  me  to  do 
but  reflect  you." 

44  What !  Reflect  me  ?  Do  you  suppose  I 
married  you  to  reflect  me,  or  could  ever  so  de- 
grade my  idea  of  wifehood  ?  " 

44  Whatever  you  married  me  for,  it  amounts 
pretty  much  to  that.  Look  around  at  this  house. 
Contrast  it  with  the  Wallises'." 

44  Well,"  said  Struan,  misunderstanding  her, 
"you  can't  hesitate  as  to  which  is  best." 


STRUAN  H9 

"  This,  of  course !  That's  not  the  point. 
The  Wallises'  house  is  the  ideal  that  I  have  had 
before  me  till  I  married  you.  This  house  does 
not,  in  the  least,  express  me.  So  much  the  better, 
perhaps.  But  all  I  did  in  making  this  home  was 
to  find  out  your  wishes  and  execute  them.  How 
much  do  I  express  myself  in  anything  ?  I  am 
not  saying  it  in  reproach.  Circumstances  may  be 
at  fault,  but  you  have  not  been.  No,  indeed, 
you've  been  as  good  as  gold  to  me,  Struan ;  but 
don't  you  see,  by  this  time,  how  little  we  are 
alike  ?  " 

She  got  out  of  her  chair,  left  it  rocking  to  and 
fro,  and  went  and  stood  beside  him,  taking  both 
his  hands  and  looking  up  into  his  face. 

"  My  poor  darling  child  !  "  he  said,  stooping  to 
kiss  her  forehead.  "  It  will  be  hard  for  me  to  for- 
give myself  if  I  make  you  regret  your  marriage 
to  an  old  man  more  than  twice  your  age." 

"  An  old  man  !  "  she  sr  laughing.  "That  is 
absurd,  applied  to  you.  1  don't  regret  my  mar- 
riage, but  I  tell  you  frankly  there  is  something 
wrong.  I  think  I  am  of  that  inferior  clay  that 
likes  to  associate  with  its  inferiors.  I  find  pleas- 
ure in  the  Wallises  because  I  am  sort  of  a  queen 
to  them.  With  them  and  their  friends  I  am 
always  the  most  important  figure  in  any  gathering. 


150  STRUAN 

Frankly,  I  like  it.  Can't  you  understand  how 
wearisome  it  gets  to  be  always  struggling  up  to 
vour  companions,  and  feeling  that  you  do  not 
reach  their  level,  try  all  you  can  ?  " 

There  was  something  so  honest  in  her,  so  like 
herself,  with  her  candid,  unpretending  nature,  that 
it  made  a  strong  appeal  to  Struan.  He  took  her 
in  his  arms,  and  kissed  her  tenderly,  and  Jenny 
returned  his  kiss ;  but  there  seemed  a  whole 
world's  distance  between  them,  compared  to  that 
time  a  year  ago  when,  in  the  first  ardor  of  their 
passion  for  each  other,  it  had  seemed  that  nothing 
else  was  needed  to  make  their  love  complete. 


IX 

STRUAN  did  not  know  it,  but  the  motive  at 
the  root  of  Jenny's  attitude  in  this  conver- 
sation was  her  sense  of  uneasiness  at  the 
thought  of  Leonard's  coming.  Struan  had  shown 
her  two  or  three  of  the  boy's  ardent  letters ;  and, 
with  her  usual  shrewdness  and  honesty  with  her- 
self, she  saw  that  he  had  idealized  her  enor- 
mously, according  to  his  imagination  of  what  the 
woman  who  had  won  his  father's  love  should  be. 
She  shrank  instinctively  from  being  measured  by 
such  a  standard.  She  had  seen  by  a  hundred  sig- 
nificant signs  that  Struan  himself  had  idealized  her 
in  a  most  uncomfortable  way,  and  in  her  prosaic 
heart  she  was  very  tired  of  straining  up  to  a  stand- 
ard which  she  could  not  reach  and  didn't  really 
care  to  reach. 

Indeed,  there  was  but  one  idea  that  really  in- 
spired or  stimulated  Jenny, —  that  of  making  a 
career  for  herself  in  light  opera.  It  was  the  only 
thing  she  really  wanted  ;  and,  after  the  disappoint- 
ment in  her  marriage, —  fully  acknowledged  to 
herself, —  she  now  recognized,  in  the  possibility 
of  this  career,  the  fulfilment  of  her  most  ardent 
dream.  She  loved  Struan,  of  course.  She  hadn't 


STRUAN 

stopped  loving  him  ;  but,  really,  it  was  folly  for  her 
to  shut  her  eyes  to  the  fact  that  they  were  not 
suited  to  each  other. 

She  worked  at  her  music  harder  than  ever ;  and 
Struan,  who  had  no  real  doubt  in  his  heart  that 
her  wish  to  please  him  was  the  paramount  motive 
with  her,  encouraged  and  praised  her  in  a  way  that 
made  her  eyes  sparkle  with  what  he  supposed  to 
be  gratified  love.  In  reality,  it  was  the  stimulus 
which  his  words  gave  to  a  hope  which  she  had 
never  resigned,  and  was  nursing  now  with  a  greater 
fervor  than  ever  before. 

The  time  had  come  when  Struan  recognized  the 
fact  that  as  far  as  he  personally  was  concerned  his 
second  venture  in  love  had  failed.  He  did  not, 
however,  recognize  it  as  a  failure  as  it  affected 
Jenny.  But  Jenny  knew  that  it  had  failed  for 
her,  too ;  and,  being  shrewder  than  he,  she  sus- 
pected enough,  as  to  his  feelings,  to  cause  her  to 
watch  him  with  close  attention. 

With  her  usual  acumen,  she  had  hit  upon  an 
important  factor  in  the  failure  of  this  marriage  J 
and  that  was  the  difference  in  their  ages.  He  was 
forty-three  ;  and  to  her,  at  twenty,  this  seemed 
old.  He  had  seen,  felt,  and  tasted  deep  of  life. 
He  had  travelled  over  the  world,  seen  society  in 
many  countries,  tasted  of  adventure,  danger,  and 


STRUAN  153 

afterward  of  success.  Now  he  had  settled  down 
to  the  calm  of  maturity,  but  he  had  had  the  de- 
lightful fever  of  youth  before  doing  so.  This  she 
had  never  had,  and  her  thirst  for  it  was  keen. 
She  had  been  almost  twenty  before  she  had  shaken 
herself  free  from  the  trammels  of  her  birth  and 
rearing ;  and  from  that  point  she  had  stepped  at 
once  into  her  present  state  of  life,  which  seemed 
to  her  now  more  or  less  a  bondage. 

In  the  early  months  of  her  marriage  she  had 
made  an  effort  to  repress  the  ebullitions  of  youth 
and  its  wilful  follies,  which  occasionally  rose  up 
in  her ;  but  lately,  with  a  purpose,  she  had  given 
these  free  vent,  watching  Struan  carefully  to  see 
if  they  jarred.  Undoubtedly,  they  did,  although 
he  made  no  outward  sign. 

There  was  one  point  on  which,  as  Jenny  knew, 
they  were  ardently  agreed.  Neither  of  them  be- 
lieved in  a  life  which  demanded  self-suppression, 
in  the  sense  of  denying  the  natural  and  healthy 
human  instincts ;  and  she  began  to  see  her  way 
clear  to  the  making  of  a  good  argument,  if  she 
should  ever  decide  to  give  him  her  reasons  for 
thinking  their  marriage  a  failure. 

Another  point  on  which  they  felt  differently 
was  that  of  parenthood.  Struan  was  disappointed 
that  there  was  no  child  born  to  them ;  while 
Jenny,  for  her  part,  openly  rejoiced. 


WHEN  Leonard  had  once  fixed  the  day 
for  his  return,  and  written  the  date 
on  which  he  was  to  sail,  a  fit  of 
impatience,  very  characteristic  of  him,  so  took 
him  in  possession  that,  in  his  eagerness  to  see  his 
beloved  father,  he  hurried  up  his  preparations  so 
as  to  sail  by  a  steamer  coming  three  days  earlier. 
The  thought  of  taking  his  father  by  surprise  so 
delighted  him  that  he  gave  no  warning  of  his 
being  near ;  but  one  morning,  when  Struan  was 
busy  with  his  correspondence  at  the  desk  in  his 
office,  he  heard  the  swing-door  slam  to  very  sud- 
denly, and  around  the  screen,  all  unannounced, 
came  Leonard,  both  his  arms  outstretched,  and 
the  cry  of  "  Father  !  "  on  his  lips. 

Struan  sprang  to  his  feet  at  sound  of  that  famil- 
iar voice,  his  face  irradiated  with  love  and  joy. 
In  a  moment  they  were  locked  in  a  close  embrace ; 
and  then,  in  foreign  fashion  which  was  nature 
itself  to  their  loving  hearts,  they  kissed  each  other. 
Then  they  drew  apart,  and  looked  in  one  an- 
other's eyes. 


STRUAN  155 

u  My  blessed  father,"  said  the  boy,  his  dark 
eyes  filling  with  tears,  "  what  a  joy  it  is  to  look  at 
you  again,  and  see  your  dear  face  just  the  same, 
only  better  and  finer  than  I  remembered  it !  " 

"  And  to  think  that  your  father  has  to  look  up 
to  you,  Len !  How  wonderful  it  seems !  My 
great,  magnificent  boy  !  God  bless  you  !  " 

He  stood  with  his  hands  on  his  son's  shoulders, 
his  face  glowing  with  love.  They  were  both  pow- 
erful men,  with  vigor  in  every  limb,  ardor  in 
every  lineament.  The  affectionate  comradeship 
which  their  looks  and  tones  indicated  gave  an  im- 
pression of  equality  that  made  them  seem  more 
like  brothers  than  father  and  son.  The  difference 
in  age,  which  he  was  so  constantly  reminded  of 
with  Jenny,  he  scarcely  thought  of  with  Len. 
There  was  a  spiritual  equality  between  the  father 
and  son  which  made  this  fact  an  insignificant 
accident ;  but,  in  the  absence  of  that  spiritual 
element,  the  point  of  age  had  a  tremendous 
meaning. 

As  they  sat  down  now  together,  the  man  and 
youth,  on  the  old  leather  lounge  where  Struan  and 
Jenny  had  once  sat,  there  was  a  zest  in  the  hearts 
and  faces  of  both  that  made  the  hour  a  rare  and 
precious  one  to  them. 

Leonard,  in  answer  to  his   father's  eager  ques- 


156  STRUAN 

tionings,  gave  a  hurried  account  of  himself  and 
the  reasons  that  had  led  to  his  sudden  and  unex- 
pected arrival. 

This  done,  a  slight  look  of  embarrassment 
crossed  his  face  ;  and,  with  a  certain  shyness,  he 
said  laughingly  : 

"  I  am  eager  to  see  my  new  mother.  I  am 
prepared  to  love  her  instantly,  and  I  am  going  to 
call  her  i  mamma  '  from  the  first." 

Struan  felt  his  heart  contract.  So  strong  an  in- 
ward throb  could  not  fail  to  make  its  mark  upon 
the  countenance.  It  took  the  form  of  a  sudden 
shadow  that  passed  over  his  face,  and  left  it  pale. 

"  You  will  find  her  too  young  for  that,"  he  said 
with  a  visible  effort  at  ease.  "  She  is  not  much 
more  than  your  own  age, —  too  young,  I  some- 
times fear,  for  an  old  fellow  like  me,  though  she 
is  too  sweet  to  acknowledge  it.  You  will  make  a 
friend  of  her,  I  know,  Leonard,  for  my  sake." 

"  Indeed,  I  will,  sir,  if  I  can,"  said  Leonard,  his 
face  growing  suddenly  crimson  from  some  inward 
and  unexpressed  emotion.  He  had  divined  that 
his  father  had  some  fear  that  he  might  not  be 
likely  to  become  the  friend  of  his  new  mother,  for 
her  own  sake.  A  great  wave  of  compassion,  on 
some  unknown  and  unquestioned  ground,  rose 
over  him. 


STRUAN  157 

"  Father,"  he  said  gently,  "  I  have  wanted  often 
to  say  something  to  you.  Let  me  say  it  now.  As 
I  have  grown  from  a  boy  to  a  man,  I  have  come 
to  understand,  in  part  at  least,  the  extreme  trials 
and  difficulties  of  your  life.  I  have  not  always 
fully  understood  you  ;  but  whatever  you  did,  under 
any  and  all  circumstances,  whatever  you  may  do 
now  or  in  the  future,  is  right  and  beautiful  in  my 
eyes,  because  it  is  you  who  do  it." 

He  did  not  know  what  feeling  it  was  in  his 
heart  that  compelled  him  to  say  this  ;  but,  when  he 
saw  the  fervid  gratitude  it  called  up  in  his  father's 
beloved  face,  he  was  glad  that  he  had  obeyed  his 
impulse. 

"  Your  faith  in  your  father  is  infinitely  precious 
to  him,  Len,"  said  Struan,  "  and  I  think  my  mo- 
tives you  may  safely  trust ;  but  don't  expect  me 
not  to  make  mistakes,  for  I  seem  doomed  to  them 
in  one  way  or  another." 

He  looked  away  from  his  son  as  he  spoke,  and 
Leonard  had  an  instinct  that  his  words  might  have 
a  special  rather  than  a  general  application.  His 
heart  glowed  with  love  and  sympathy  as  he  said  : 

"  If  ever  there  was  blind  faith  in  the  world,  sir, 
it  seems  to  me  that  that  is  what  my  faith  in  you 
is.  It  makes  it  easier  for  me  to  understand  what 
faith  in  God  is.  Millicent  says  it  is  a  great  deal 


158  STRUAN 

grander  for  being  blind,  and  that,  if  we  see  that  a 
being  is  good,  we  need  ask  for  no  further  vision 
concerning  him.  Oh,  sir,"  the  young  fellow 
broke  off  abruptly,  with  a  change  of  tone  and  sub- 
ject that  was  perhaps  welcome  to  both,  "  I  can 
never  be  satisfied  until  you  know  Millicent. 
Nothing  that  I  or  others  have  said,  nothing  that 

O  *  O 

we  might  say,  can  give  you  an  idea  of  her  until 
you  see  her." 

"Yes,  tell  me  of  Millicent,"  said  his  father, 
unconscious  of  a  brief  sigh  which,  however, 
Leonard  had  heard.  "  Tell  me  of  Millicent,"  he 
repeated.  "  We  used  to  play  together  as  chil- 
dren ;  but  I  went  off  to  college,  and  she  to 
Europe,  and  we  never  met  afterward.  I'm  glad 
you  looked  her  up  and  claimed  the  relationship, 
though  it  is  not  a  very  close  one.  She  grew 
up  a  beauty,  I  know,  and  a  very  accomplished 
woman.  She's  been  tremendously  admired,  and 
I've  often  wondered  that  she  never  married." 

11  You  wouldn't,  sir,  if  you  knew  her,"  said 
Len,  decidedly,  "  and  knew  the  men  that,  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  she's  past  her  first  youth,  are 
only  too  glad  to  flock  about  her,  wherever  she 
goes.  There's  no  lack  of  them,  more's  the  pity  ; 
for  they  are  often  in  my  way,  and  in  hers,  too,  I 
believe.  If  she  wanted  an  assorted  lot  to  choose 


STRUAN  159 

from,  she  certainly  would  have  it.  There  are  big 
swells  with  titles  and  money  galore  ;  and  there  are 
literary  men  and  artists  and  musicians  and  men  of 
every  sort,  some  brilliant  and  clever  enough.  Yet 
the  very  best  of  them,  when  looked  at  in  the  light 
of  a  husband  for  Millicent,  shrivel  to  nothing ! 
I  used  to  get  wild  with  rage,  for  fear  she  would 
marry  some  of  these  men,  but  that  was  before  I 
knew  her.  It  would  be  just  as  impossible  for  her 
to  do  it  as  it  would  be  for  me  to  imagine  it.  I 
am  convinced  that  she  will  never  marry,  though 
she  says  I  mustn't  make  too  sure  of  it, —  that,  if 
she  were  to  meet,  at  fifty  or  at  sixty,  the  man 
that  she  could  love,  she  would  marry  him  at  once ! 
I  don't  think  she  will  ever  meet  that  man,  how- 
ever. So  I  am  confident  she  will  not  marry." 

"  And  it's  pretty  plain  that  you  get  comfort 
from  the  thought,"  said  Struan,  smiling.  "  I've 
seen  from  your  letters  what  a  charm  she  has  for 
you.  I've  had  a  sort  of  notion  that  you  were  in 
love  with  her  yourself." 

"  I  am,  indeed,  sir,"  said  the  boy,  with  a  frank 
smile,  a  flush  rising  to  his  cheeks.  "  She  knows 
it  perfectly,  and  laughs  about  it  in  the  most  mad- 
dening way.  She  used  to  say  that,  properly  regu- 
lated, it  was  good  for  me,  living  in  Paris  in  that 
way.  She  allows  me  to  call  myself  her  knight, 


160  STRUAN 

and  to  call  her  my  lady ;  and  once  in  a  while,  but 
not  often,  I  may  kiss  her  hand.  Oh,  I  long  for 
you  to  know  what  she  has  been  to  me  !  I've  had 
terrible  fits  of  depression  now  and  then,  without 
you  to  set  me  right ;  and  she  told  me  to  come  to 
her  at  those  times,  and  speak  to  her  as  frankly  as 
I  would  to  you.  There  is  something  hideous 
about  Paris  ;  and  at  times  the  horror  of  it  possessed 
me  so  that  I  would  walk  the  streets  all  night,  and 
even  search  out  its  hideousness.  It  seemed  to  me 
appalling  that  we  should  live  gay  and  protected 
lives  in  the  midst  of  such  crime  and  misery,  and 
content  ourselves  to  shut  our  eyes  to  it.  I 
worked  myself  into  such  a  state  at  times  that, 
if  I  had  not  had  Millicent's  presence  and  your 
example,  I  don't  know  what  would  have  been 
the  upshot." 

"  Yes,"  said  Struan,  earnestly,  "  I  have  never 
for  an  instant  lost  sight  of  what  you  were  endur- 
ing. I  went  through  it  all  before  you.  I  spent 
my  youth  in  Paris,  and  I  sent  you  there  deliber- 
ately. I  knew  you  would  be  tried ;  but  I  knew, 
also,  that  you  would  not  fail." 

"  Oh,  sir,  but  I'm  not  as  strong  as  you.  I 
am  sure  that,  even  as  a  boy,  you  were  a  stronger 
character.  I  used  to  tell  Millicent  the  things  you 
said  to  me  in  sending  me  out  in  the  world.  She 


STRUAN  161 

would  question  me  about  it  often  ;  and  I  told  her 
all, —  how  you  intentionally  put  me  to  the  proof 
to  find  out  what  stuff  I  was  made  of.  I  even  told 
her  that  you  had  said  that  I  had  by  nature  high 
instincts  and  unusual  gifts,  and  that  you  said,  if  I 
was  going  to  throw  these  away,  now  was  the  time 
and  Paris  was  the  place, —  that  you  had  said  to 
me,  c  If  you  can  do  it,  do  it.'  I  told  Millicent 
that  you  had  assured  me  that  I  had  forces  in  me 
which,  well  directed,  would  help  the  world,  and 
that,  in  order  to  develop  these  to  their  highest, 
I  must  know  from  personal  experience  both  good 
and  evil,  in  order  that  I  might  intelligently  choose 
one  and  reject  the  other ;  I  told  her  that  you  gave 
me  a  large  allowance,  that  I  might  know  that 
liberty  and  that  danger;  and,  lastly,  I  told  her 
that  you  watched  me  with  love  from  across  the 
world,  and  trusted  and  believed  in  me.  You  see, 
sir,"  he  went  on, "  I  remembered  all  that  you  said. 
I  talked  it  over  with  Millicent  so  often.  She  used 
to  say  that  she  did  not  know  whether  you  had 
been  wise  or  foolish, —  that  it  was  magnificent,  in 
a  way,  but  that  it  showed  a  rather  rash  confi- 
dence in  the  unknown  quantities  of  my  strength 
and  will.  There  is  nothing  I  cannot  talk  to  her 
about.  Her  mind  is  as  clean  as  yours,  sir,  and 
just  as  free." 


i6z  STRUAN 

Struan  had  listened  with  intense  interest.  Now 
he  said  : 

"  If  I  had  realized  that  you  were  under  the 
watchful  care  of  such  a  woman,  I  should  have 
been  spared  many  an  hour's  anxiety  about  you. 
With  your  own  soul  and  hers  to  guide  you,  you 
couldn't  have  gone  wrong.  But,  even  without 
Millicent,  you  would  have  come  out  all  right." 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  of  that,  sir.  You  judge 
me  by  yourself.  You  would.  Indeed,  you  did. 
But,  without  Millicent,  I  think  I  should  have 
failed." 

Struan  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Presently  he 
said,  as  if  after  deliberate  thought : 

"  Yes,  Leonard,  I  went  through  the  ordeal  of 
that  Paris  life  almost  unharmed.  I  came  out  of 
it  strengthened,  if  necessarily  somewhat  saddened. 
But,  then,  my  boy,  what  followed  ?  I  made  the 
irretrievable  mistake  of  a  rash  and  unconsidered 
marriage.  The  pain  which  our  absolutely  un- 
matched natures  brought  to  your  poor  mother 
grieved  me  as  much  as  my  own  bitter  disappoint- 
ment. It  has  hurt  me  always,  it  hurts  me  even 
now,  to  think  that  another  sort  of  man  might 
have  made  her  happy." 

"  Father,  don't  think  of  it,"  said  Len,  tenderly. 
"I  am  sure  you  are  wrong  to  blame  yourself.  I 


STRUAN  163 

am  older  now,  and  I  have  thought  of  it  a  great 
deal  in  these  years  of  absence.  My  poor  little 
mother  would  never,  I  am  sure,  have  been  happy 
in  any  marriage.  She  was  not  made  for  it.  I 
want  to  tell  you,  sir,  before  we  drop  this  sad  sub- 
ject, that  I  realize  more  every  day  how  absolutely 
you  did  the  best  you  could  for  her." 

"  I  hope  so,  Len.  I  wanted  to.  I  tried  to 
with  all  my  heart.  As  you  say,  it  is  a  sad  sub- 
ject ;  but  I  introduced  it  purposely,  to  give  you,  at 
this  important  period  of  your  life,  a  serious  warn- 
ing. Marriage,  my  son,  to  men  like  you  and  me  " 
(Leonard's  heart  swelled  with  pride  at  this :  to 
be  called  a  man  at  all  was  still  rather  a  novelty 
to  him ;  but  to  be  called  a  man  like  his  father,  the 
man  of  men  to  him  ! )  "is  the  supreme  fact  in  life. 
Wait  with  patience.  Never  think  you  love  any 
woman  in  the  perfect  way  until  every  side  of  your 
nature  and  every  element  of  your  being  consents 
to  it,  demands  it.  The  supreme  object  of  my  life 
now  is  to  save  you  from  making  a  mistake  in  mar- 
riage." 

"  How  strange  !  That  is  precisely  what  Milli- 
cent  thinks.  She  says  she  will  save  me  from  that 
tragedy  at  any  cost.  She  wants  me  not  to  think 
of  marrying,  if  I  can  help  it,  until  I  am  twenty- 
eight.  She  says  in  some  ways  I  develop  slowly, 


164  STRUAN 

though  in  some  of  my  thoughts  I  am  mature. 
She  wants  me  now  to  throw  myself  into  my  art, 
as  she  is  doing.  Oh,  if  you  could  see  her  paint- 
ing !  It  is  so  strong  and  so  delicate  !  And  she's 
as  humble  !  It  was  years  before  she  would  ex- 
hibit in  the  Salon  j  and  then  she  made  so  little  of 
all  the  praise  she  got,  and  said  the  most  of  it  came 
from  people  who  loved  to  flatter  her.  She  declares 
I  have  ten  times  her  talent,  and  only  need  some 
of  her  concentration.  She  has  given  me  such 
beautiful  feelings  about  my  art,  and  has  shown  me 
how  impossible  it  will  be  for  me  to  do  my  best 
work  unless  I  keep  my  life  clean  and  my  spirit 
pure.  It's  just  what  I've  heard  you  say  about 
your  music,  sir.  It's  wonderful  how  much  you 
and  Millicent  think  alike.  Oh,  how  I  do  want 
you  to  see  each  other !  " 

"  You  are  certainly  her  worshipper,"  said 
Struan,  with  an  indulgent  smile.  "  I  should  like 
indeed  to  see  this  paragon  of  women." 

"  That's  exactly  the  way  she  talks  of  you,  sir," 
said  Len,  laughing.  "  She  says  she  has  always 
been  very  proud  to  claim  you  as  her  cousin,  as  you 
are  the  only  genius  the  family  has  produced  ;  but 
at  the  same  time  she  says  that,  when  she  meets 
you,  she  is  certainly  not  going  to  expect  that  you 
or  mortal  man  will  come  up  to  my  estimate  of 


STRUAN  165 

you.  She  is  coming  to  America  soon  to  make  a 
visit  to  her  grandmother.  I  want  you  to  see  how 
much  she  really  cares  for  me.  It  humbles  me  in 
the  dust  to  think  of  it,  and  makes  me  resolute  to 
do  something  worthy  of  her.  Oh,  I  long  for  you 
to  see  how  beautiful  she  is,  how  different  from 
all  the  rest  of  the  world  !  I  have  her  photograph, 
but  it's  a  libel.  Every  one  falls  in  love  with  her. 
It's  been  no  end  of  fun  to  me  to  make  her  other 
admirers  —  men,  and  women,  too  —  wild  with 
jealousy.  She's  self-willed,  in  a  way,  and  won't 
bore  herself  with  people  who  are  stupid  ;  and  so 
often  she  would  let  me  carry  her  off  by  ourselves 
somewhere,  when  there  were  a  dozen  people  trying 
to  talk  to  her.  I  know  how  it  will  be  when  she 
arrives  in  New  York.  I'll  go  to  meet  the  steamer, 
and  there'll  be  a  good  many  others  who  will  do 
the  same ;  and  I  can  just  see  now  how  they  will 
all  look,  and  how  she  will  look,  when  she  just 
shakes  hands  all  around,  and  then  lets  herself  be 
whisked  away  by  me." 

Struan  smiled  at  the  boy's  enthusiasm ;  but  for 
some  inexplicable  reason,  and  although  his  own 
nature  responded  to  all  that  his  son  said,  he  felt, 
all  at  once,  strangely  old. 

Leonard  was  just  the  same,  and  yet  there  -seemed 
to  be  a  great  accumulation  of  years  on  his  part. 


i66  STRUAN 

The  boy's  freshness  and  ardor  were  almost  a  sur- 
prise to  him.  He  had  always  had  that  trick  of 
addressing  his  father  as  "  sir."  It  seemed  an  in- 
stinct with  him  to  express  this  deference  for  his 
beloved  parent,  with  whom  he  was  at  the  same 
time  so  familiar. 


XI 

IT  was  out  of  the  question  to  work  any  more 
that  day.  Struan  put  his  letters  and  papers 
aside,  and  got  ready  to  take  Leonard  home. 
It  crossed  his  mind  to  wait  till  evening,  and  send 
Jenny  a  telegram  meantime ;  but  Jenny  had  a  way 
of  "  dressing  for  company,"  and  putting  on  also 
a  company  manner,  that  he  had  often  seen  with 
distaste.  He  preferred  to  take  her  by  surprise, 
when  she  would  at  least  be  natural.  Besides,  he 
dreaded  intensely  the  ordeal  of  introducing  Leon- 
ard to  Jenny ;  and,  since  it  had  to  be  done,  he 
wanted  to  get  it  over.  He  had  meant  to  say  abso- 
lutely nothing  to  Leonard  that  might  hint  at  a 
disappointment  in  his  second  marriage.  He  knew 
that  the  fact  of  his  silence  would  be  indication 
enough  that  things  were  not  all  that  he  had  hoped. 
As  the  interview  had  turned  out,  however,  he  felt 
that  Leonard  was,  in  a  measure,  prepared  to  find 
Jenny  somewhat  different  from  what  his  ardent 
idealization  of  his  father's  wife  had  led  him  to 
expect. 

When  they  reached  the  house  and  went  up  on 
the   porch,  Jenny   was  practising.     The    noise   of 
167 


168  STRUAN 

the  piano  prevented  her  hearing  their  footsteps  j 
and,  as  they  now  stood  still  to  listen,  Struan  felt 
an  instant's  sense  of  pride. 

"  What  a  charming  voice  !  "  said  the  younger 
man,  in  an  enthusiastic  whisper. 

Struan  nodded  in  a  confident  way,  but  at  the 
same  time  his  face  showed  certain  signs  of  a  dis- 
turbance that  Leonard  saw  with  pain. 

They  waited  till  the  music  paused ;  and  then 
Struan,  opening  the  Venetian  shutters,  stepped 
through  the  low  window,  and  said  in  a  voice 
whose  heartiness  was  a  trifle  overdone  : 

"Jenny,  I  have  a  surprise  for  you.  Here  is 
Leonard." 

Jenny  sprang  up  in  great  confusion,  putting  her 
hands  to  her  head  where  a  row  of  curl-papers 
bristled.  Then  she  looked  down  at  her  gown, 
which,  though  free  and  graceful  in  its  lines,  was 
neither  fresh  nor  tidy.  Then  her  face  turned 
scarlet ;  and  she  gave  Struan  a  look  of  indignant 
reproach,  which  had  in  it  a  certain  gleam  of  bad 
temper. 

"  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  !  "  she  said. 
"  What  did  you  let  him  come  here  and  catch  me 
this  way  for  ?  " 

Poor  Struan  and  poor  Len  ! 

The   former  began   to  apologize,  saying  sooth- 


STRUAN  169 

ingly :  "  It  doesn't  matter.  You  mustn't  mind 
Len."  While  the  latter,  with  the  image  of  a 
grande  dame  so  fresh  in  his  mind,  by  way  of  con- 
trast, felt  a  sense  of  pity  for  his  father  which  al- 
most choked  him.  A  like  feeling  urged  him  at 
the  same  time  to  assume  a  manner  of  respectful 
homage,  such  as  he  would  have  shown  to  Milli- 
cent  herself,  as  he  came  forward  and  said  : 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  for  coming  in  so  uncere- 
moniously. I  hope  you  are  not  going  to  make  a 
stranger  of  me."  And,  reaching  for  her  hand,  he 
carried  it  to  his  lips  with  a  charming  foreign 
grace. 

As  soon  as  Jenny  recovered  her  hand,  she  began 
with  nervous  haste  to  take  down  her  curl-papers, 
blushing  and  half-crying  with  vexation  as  she 
looked  up  at  him,  towering  above  her  and  above 
Struan  himself. 

Even  in  that  agitated  moment  it  seemed  to  her 
that  she  had  never  seen  a  more  attractive  young 
creature.  He  must  have  been  quite  six  feet  three 
in  height,  and  his  motions  were  full  of  ease  and 
grace.  He  had  curly  blond  hair,  the  shadow  of 
a  mustache,  and  long  dark  eyes  that  lingered  on 
the  mind's  retina  long  after  he  had  turned  away. 
He  was  dressed  with  a  careless  elegance,  and 
carried  with  him  a  certain  atmosphere  which 


STRUAN 

made  Jenny  realize  what  poor  imitations  of 
fashionable  young  men  had  been  the  stage  repre- 
sentations which  she  had  seen. 

It  was  all  the  more  annoying  that  he  should 
have  caught  her  so.  She  felt  furious  with  Struan 
for  having  put  her  in  such  a  position.  Making 
a  rather  awkward  excuse  for  herself,  she  hurried 
away,  saying  she  would  go  and  order  Leonard's 
room  to  be  made  ready  for  him. 

Left  alone,  the  two  men,  as  with  one  consent, 
looked  away  from  each  other. 

"  Well,  here  are  to  be  your  quarters  for 
a  while,"  said  Struan,  glancing  round  the  room  j 
and  Leonard,  as  he  did  the  same,  said  : 

"  What  a  snug  place  you  have  here  !  " 

41  Yes,  it's  very  comfortable,  which  is  all  we 
claim,"  said  Struan.  "  Poor  Jenny,  she  is  morti- 
fied at  her  deshabille"  he  went  on.  "  It  was  in- 
considerate of  me,  but  I  did  not  think.  You 
know  I  have  a  habit  of  not  thinking,  Len,  about 
these  little  things  that  mean  often  so  much  to 
others.  I  have  a  way  of  walking  with  my  head 
in  the  clouds,  so  they  say." 

"  My  dear  father  !  "  said  Leonard,  ardently,  his 
voice  almost  choked  with  tears. 

Somehow,  it  touched  the  father's  heart  too 
much.  He  could  not  bear  the  sweetness  of  this 


STRUAN  171 

subtle  sympathy ;  and,  saying  hastily  that  he 
would  speak  to  Jenny  for  a  moment,  he  left  the 
room. 

Upstairs  he  found  her  scrambling  wildly  into 
a  rather  elaborate  -  looking  dress,  her  face  still 
flushed,  and  her  hair  distinctly  over-curly  from 
its  recent  release  from  confinement.  She  looked 
at  him  with  a  vivid  vexation  in  her  eyes,  but  did 
not  speak. 

"  Forgive  me,  Jenny,"  he  said.  "  I  didn't 
think  —  " 

"  Oh,  no,  of  course,  you  didn't  think !  It 
seems  to  me  you  might  have  thought.  I  never 
saw  myself  look  a  greater  fright.  I  don't  know 
what  your  son  must  think  of  me." 

"  Len  will  not  mind,"  said  Struan,  soothingly, 
"  if  you  only  like  him  and  make  friends  with  him. 
It  will  not  matter  to  him  about  your  dress." 

"  It  matters  to  me,"  she  said  fretfully.  "  I'll 
never  get  over  the  mortification  of  it  as  long  as  I 
live." 

Struan  felt  keenly  hurt.  To  think  that  the 
meeting  of  these  two  beings  —  his  wife  and  his 
son  —  should  have  been  spoiled  by  so  insignificant 
a  matter  as  a  costume  gave  him  a  certain  sense  of 
bitterness.  Things  were  either  big  or  little  to 
him,  and  dress  was  among  the  little  things  of  life  ; 
while  to  Jenny  it  was  one  of  the  biggest. 


172  STRUAN 

"  I'm  sorry,  dear,"  he  said. 

"  I'm  sure  I  think  you  ought  to  be,"  she  an- 
swered in  a  tone  more  disagreeable  than  any  he 
had  heard  her  use.  u  For  goodness'  sake,  go 
now,  and  take  your  son  to  his  room.  Harriet 
must  have  it  ready  by  this  time.  I've  got  to  go 
and  see  what  on  earth  I  can  get  for  lunch.  Oh, 
it's  too  bad  !  "  she  said,  wrestling  with  the  hooks 
of  her  dress,  which  fastened  on  her  left  shoulder, 
and  which  would  not  catch. 

Struan  had  often  performed  this  little  service  for 
her ;  and  he  went  now,  and  said  kindly  : 

"  Let  me  do  that,  Jenny." 

She  permitted  him  to  fasten  it,  but  did  not  look 
at  him. 

"  Never  mind  about  lunch,"  he  said.  "  Any- 
thing will  do." 

This  glib  and  ambiguous  phrase  was  singularly 
irritating  to  her,  as  it  has  been  to  many  a  house- 
keeper before  her. 

"  Oh,  yes,  anything  will  do,"  she  said  ;  "  but  I 
don't  suppose  nothing  will  do,  will  it  ?  " 

She  delivered  this  taunt  with  a  little  laugh, 
which  Struan  distinctly  did  not  like.  Then  she 
left  him,  and  went  downstairs. 

To  Struan  the  meal  was  as  unimportant  as  the 
costume,  and  he  was  grieved  to  have  his  son  so 


STRUAN  173 

treated  as  a  stranger  in  his  house.  It  seemed  to 
matter  little  to  Jenny  whether  he  was  received 
with  cordiality  and  affection  or  not,  so  long  as  she 
was  becomingly  dressed  and  could  give  him  a 
creditable  lunch.  Struan's  points  of  view  were, 
without  doubt,  a  little  hard  on  Jenny.  Life 
seemed  to  him  often  so  simple  where  she  found  it 
complex,  and  so  complex  where  she  found  it 
simple. 

Leonard  meanwhile  was  walking  about  like  a 
stranger  in  the  drawing-room  of  his  father's  house. 
The  strangeness  of  the  exterior,  however,  was 
little  compared  to  the  strangeness  by  which  his 
inmost  soul  felt  Jenny  to  be  an  alien,  and  knew 
that  she  must  ever  be  such  to  him.  He  thought 
of  his  glorious  father,  and  wondered  how  such 
a  thing  could  be.  He  thought  of  Millicent,  and 
wondered  what  her  trenchant  insight  would  make 
of  this  strange  situation. 

The  one  redeeming  thing,  so  far,  was  Jenny's 
singing.  Certainly,  she  had  a  lovely  voice.  Turn- 
ing toward  the  piano,  he  was  about  to  examine  the 
music  scattered  there,  when  he  noticed  a  glass 
half  full  of  water  standing  in  the  midst  of  it, 
and,  stuck  to  the  side  of  the  glass,  a  curious-look- 
ing gray  thing  that  he  could  not  at  first  make  out. 
Stooping,  that  he  might  examine  it  better  with  his 


174  STRUAN 

short-sighted  eyes,  he  discovered  that  it  was  a 
small  wad  of  chewing-gum,  which  had  already 
served  its  purpose, —  in  part,  at  least.  He  had 
been  an  American  school-boy,  and  he  knew  what 
it  was. 

Divided  between  repulsion  and  amusement,  he 
turned  away,  to  meet  his  father's  ardent  welcom- 
ing eyes,  as  he  said  : 

11  Come,  Len,  your  room  is  ready.  Jenny  has 
gone  to  look  us  up  some  lunch."  And  he  took 
his  son's  arm  affectionately,  and  led  him  upstairs. 

Leonard  felt  a  strong  impulse  to  throw  his  arms 
around  his  beloved  father's  neck,  and  cry  upon 
his  breast.  He  controlled  it,  however;  and  they 
walked  along,  keeping  up  a  rather  perfunctory 
talk,  until  they  reached  the  ornate  apartment 
which  Jenny  called  "the  spare  room." 

Struan  never  had  occasion  to  come  here,  and  he 
scarcely  knew  it,  so  that  its  appearance  now  was 
something  of  a  shock  to  him. 

It  was  true,  as  Jenny  had  said,  that  in  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  house  she  had  virtually  effaced 
herself;  and  the  rooms  which  Struan  saw  and 
made  use  of  had  been  furnished  according  to  his 
taste,  and  not  hers.  Jenny  had  managed  to  have 
it  so  without  his  really  taking  in  the  fact. 

In    u  the     spare    room,"    however,    Jenny    had 


STRUAN  175 

worked  her  sweet  will,  aided  by  suggestions  from 
Mrs.  Wallis.  True,  she  had  had  almost  no 
guests ;  but  it  had  been  an  amusement  to  her  to 
execute  here  some  of  the  fashion-book  hints  which 
she  and  Mrs.  Wallis  found  so  pleasing,  so  there 
were  endless  knick-knacks  and  kickshaws,  which 
made  the  room  look  as  trivial  and  meretricious  as 
could  well  be. 

To  do  Jenny  justice,  she  had  intended  to  make 
things  more  in  accord  with  Struan's  taste  before 
the  arrival  of  his  son  j  but  whose  fault  was  it  that 
she  had  not  done  so  ?  After  the  catastrophe  of 
the  toilet  and  the  lunch,  this  seemed  a  small  affair. 

To  Leonard  this  overdone  and  trashy  room 
represented  a  new  tragedy  in  his  father's  life.  Its 
effect  upon  him,  therefore,  was  to  make  him  feel 
more  deeply  tender  than  ever  to  this  dear  being, 
who,  deserving  the  best  in  marriage  as  in  all  things, 
had,  for  some  occult  reason,  fared  so  ill.  There 
was  too  keen  a  sympathy  between  them  for  Struan 
not  to  divine,  in  part,  what  Leonard  was  feeling, 
—  not  the  concrete  essence  of  it,  but  there  was  an 
atmosphere  of  sympathy  which  his  son's  presence 
cast  about  him. 

Leonard,  for  his  part,  felt  afraid  that  his  father 
would  notice  his  making  no  comment  whatever 
upon  Jenny.  So  he  took  refuge  in  saying, 


1 76  STRUAN 

"What  a  charming  voice  —  " 

He  got  so  far,  and  then  stumbled.  He  felt 
utterly  at  a  loss  what  to  call  her.  He  had  meant 
to  say  "  mamma,"  but  that  was  impossible.  He 
could  not  call  her  "  Mrs.  Struan  " ;  and  to  say 
"  your  wife "  would,  he  feared,  sound  as  if  he 
wished  to  repudiate  the  relationship  to  himself. 

"  Yes,  her  voice  is  lovely.  You  must  make  her 
sing  for  you,"  Struan  answered,  evidently  perceiv- 
ing the  difficulty,  but  not  helping  him  out  of  it. 
Then,  as  if  by  a  sudden  impulse,  he  put  both 
hands  on  Leonard's  shoulders,  and,  looking  up 
into  his  face,  said  earnestly  : 

41  My  son,  this  young  and  gifted  girl  has  been 
very  trustful  of  me.  She  has  given  up  a  great  deal 
for  me.  She  wanted  to  go  on  the  stage,  and  she 
could  have  made  a  success  in  light  opera.  She 
gave  it  up  for  me." 

"  More's  the  pity ! "  was  Leonard's  inward  com- 
ment. Jenny  seemed  to  him  as  admirably  fitted 
to  the  career  she  had  abandoned  as  she  was  un- 
fitted to  the  one  she  had  adopted.  That  little 
soubrette  Lucien  Struan's  wife!  He  felt  as  if  it 
must  be  some  disturbing  dream  from  which  he 
must  awaken. 

The  lunch  that  followed  seemed  a  part  of  that 
same  dream.  Jenny  apologized  for  everything, 


STRUAN  177 

and,  indeed,  took  up  most  of  the  talk,  taking  pains 
to  make  it  appear  that  she  knew  what  a  good 
lunch  was,  and  was  not  giving  them  such  simple 
fare  from  ignorance.  She  had  not  got  over  her 
bad  humor  at  being  taken  by  surprise,  and  Struan 
thought  he  had  never  seen  her  appear  to  such  dis- 
advantage. He  felt  almost  as  sorry  for  Jenny  as 
Leonard  felt  for  him,  so  that  the  manner  of  the 
two  men  was  more  than  ordinarily  gentle  and 
amiable, —  a  fact  which  made  a  certain  resentment 
in  Jenny's  bearing  the  more  apparent. 

Leonard  praised  the  lunch,  spoke  warmly  of 
her  voice  and  his  eagerness  to  hear  her  again,  and 
made  himself  so  painstakingly  agreeable  that  he 
overdid  it  a  little  ;  and  the  shrewd  Jenny  saw  the 
effort,  and  resented  it. 

After  lunch  she  said  she  knew  that  they  would 
want  to  smoke  ;  and  so  she  excused  herself,  saying 
she  had  an  errand  to  a  neighbor's.  A  little  later 
they  saw  her  going  down  the  walk  and  out  into 
the  street. 

She  went  at  once  to  her  friend  Ida's,  and  poured 
forth  her  woes  into  very  sympathetic  ears.  Ida 
thought  her  grievance  quite  as  important  as  she 
herself  considered  it;  and  Jenny,  under  the  provo- 
cation of  her  wrongs,  allowed  herself  to  speak 
more  freely  of  her  marriage  and  its  consequences 
for  her  than  she  had  ever  spoken  before. 


178  STRUAN 

The  very  fact  of  utterance  made  her  woes  more 
definite  to  her  own  consciousness  ;  and,  stung  by 
the  conviction  that  Leonard,  for  all  his  politeness, 
looked  down  upon  her  and  pitied  his  father  for 
his  marriage,  she  spoke  out  for  the  first  time  a 
feeling  that  had  long  lurked  unuttered  in  her  mind. 

"  The  truth  is,"  she  said,  "  I  was  a  sentimental 
fool  to  marry  a  man  old  enough  to  be  my  father, 
who  thinks  and  feels  differently  from  me  on  every 
subject  under  the  sun." 

This  was  enough  for  Ida.  She  had  always  felt 
a  sense  of  inferiority  in  Struan's  presence  that 
galled  her ;  and  now,  following  Jenny's  lead,  she 
expressed  herself  so  freely  as  to  the  unfitness  of 
the  marriage  that  Jenny's  long-practised  habit  of 
loyalty  gave  way  before  it,  and  she  ended  by  hav- 
ing a  hearty  fit  of  crying. 

The  only  thing  that  enabled  her  to  rally  from 
this  was  the  recollection  that  she  must  meet 
Leonard  again,  and  must  not  have  red  eyes.  She 
did  not  care  to  see  him,  she  would  have  been 
glad  to  avoid  it ;  but,  since  it  had  to  be,  she 
wanted  to  do  herself  credit.  She  felt  a  certain 
sense  of  exhilaration  at  the  thought  of  singing 
for  this  splendid  young  man.  There,  at  least, 
she  believed  that  she  could  impress  him.  She 
had  a  pretty  just  conception  of  the  hopelessness 
of  any  attempt  to  do  so,  except  in  this  particular. 


STRUAN  179 

But  when  the  time  for  her  triumph  came,  and 
though  she  had  the  support  and  comfort  of  feel- 
ing that  she  did  herself  full  justice,  there  was  an 
undoubted  and  inexplicable  drop  of  bitterness 
even  in  this  cup. 

When  Leonard  asked  her  to  sing,  and  she  rose 
to  comply,  Struan  at  once  offered  to  play  her 
accompaniments. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  said.  "  What  have  you  been 
practising  ?  " 

"  This,"  said  Jenny,  placing  a  sheet  of  music 
before  him,  and  taking  her  place  at  his  side  with 
an  air  of  satisfied  confidence. 

Struan  ran  over  the  opening  chords  with  his 
master-touch  that  even  in  those  few  notes  made 
Len's  heart  swell,  and  then  Jenny  sang. 

Her  performance  was  unquestionably  brilliant. 
To  a  naturally  rich  and  charming  voice  was 
added  the  great  advantage  of  Struan's  training, 
and  she  sang  her  selected  song  with  an  abandon 
that  was  admirable.  Had  Leonard  heard  it  on 
the  French  stage,  he  would  have  applauded 
heartily ;  but,  hearing  it  so,  and  realizing  that  this 
dashing  little  singer  was  his  father's  wife,  he  felt 
a  powerful  sense  of  protest,  which  was  immeas- 
urably deepened  as  he  watched  his  father's  face. 

"  Bravo,  Jenny  !  "  said  Struan,  as  the  song  con- 


i8o  STRUAN 

eluded.  "  I  am  certain  that  Len  has  never  heard 
that  better  done." 

It  was  true,  and  Len  made  haste  to  say  so. 
But  was  it  worth  the  doing  ?  All  work  well 
clone  was  that,  he  told  himself;  but  this  rollick- 
ing bit  of  opera-bouffe, —  was  it  the  sort  of  thing 
for  Struan's  wife  ?  Distinctly  no  ! 

And  Jenny,  who  was  quick  to  mark  effects, 
felt  that  there  was  something  in  her  performance 
that  grated  as  well  as  something  that  pleased. 

Still,  Leonard  thanked  her,  almost  enthusiasti- 
cally, and  asked  her  to  sing  again.  When  she 
definitely  declined,  however,  he  did  not  insist. 
Then,  as  Struan  still  sat  at  the  piano,  the  younger 
man  drew  nearer,  and  said  with  emotion  : 

"  Play  to  me,  father.  I  have  not  heard  you  for 
so  long,  and  there  is  nothing  to  me  in  the  whole 
world  of  music  like  your  playing." 

And  Struan  played,  sonorously,  powerfully, 
passionately,  on  and  on  and  on,  while  Leonard 
sat  and  listened.  When  the  music  ceased  at  last, 
they  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  with  a  sense 
of  understanding  which  comforted  both  hearts. 
After  that,  it  seemed  that  words  were  not  much 
needed  between  them. 

When  they  thought  of  Jenny,  and  looked 
around  for  her,  they  found  that  she  was  gone. 


XII 

NEXT  morning,  early,  Jenny  came  to  Struan 
with  a  request.      Mr.  and   Mrs.  Wallis. 
she  said,  were  going  for  a  week  to  the 
seashore  for  a  little  pleasure  trip ;  and  she  wanted 
to  go  with  them. 

The  very  eagerness  that  Struan  felt  to  grant  her 
request  made  him  hesitate,  and  she  had  more  diffi- 
culty than  was  common  in  getting  his  consent  to 
her  plan.  There  was  no  reasonable  ground  of 
objection  to  it,  however,  except  his  own  lack  of 
liking  for  the  Wallises  ;  and,  as  he  had  no  basis 
for  that  but  an  instinctive  one,  he  felt  that  he  had 
no  right  to  deny  her  this  pleasure. 

So  she  went  ;  and  Struan  was  left  alone  with 
his  dear  son. 

Leonard's  luggage  arrived,  and  he  had  begun 
his  unpacking,  when,  in  the  midst  of  it,  Struan 
knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,  sir,"  he  said  eagerly,  rising  from 
his  knees  before  a  big  trunk.  "  I'll  talk  to  you  in 
a  minute.  I've  been  getting  out  some  presents 
that  I've  brought  to  different  people.  I've  got 
several  little  things  for  you,  sir;  but  the  most 
important  of  these  is  still  in  the  custom-house." 
181 


182  STRUAN 

He  turned,  and  resumed  his  rummaging  in  the 
trunk ;  while  Struan  walked  about  the  room,  pick- 
ing up  and  laying  down  the  boy's  various  small 
belongings,  all  of  which  had  for  his  father  a  sig- 
nificance and  interest. 

Presently  Leonard,  kneeling  before  the  trunk 
with  his  back  turned,  heard  himself  addressed  by 
a  summoning  voice,  almost  stern  in  its  concentra- 
tion. 

"  Leonard,"  it  said  ;  and  he  started  to  his  feet, 
surprised. 

His  father  looked  at  him  over  a  photograph 
that  he  held  in  his  hand,  and  said,  almost  with 
agitation  : 

"  This  is  Millicent  ?  " 

There  was  an  interrogative  inflection  in  his 
words ;  but  there  was  absolute  conviction  in  his 
tones. 

"  Oh,  you  have  found  it  !  "  said  Leonard.  "  I 
was  looking  for  it  to  show  you.  What  do  you 
think  of  it  ?  " 

"  Think  of  it  ?  I  don't  think  of  it.  My  soul 
salutes  it.  Great  heavens,  what  a  face  !  " 

Leonard  had  never  heard  his  father  put  such 
force  into  an  exclamation  before ;  and  yet  he 
spoke  low,  and  as  if  more  to  himself  than  his  son. 
He  stood  as  if  rapt  in  the  contemplation  of  this 


STRUAN  183 

picture,  holding  it  first  close  to  his   eyes  and  then 
far  off,  as  if  to  get  the  broad  view. 

"  What  a  face  !  "  he  said  again,  and  this  time 
with  some  recognition  of  his  companion's  pres- 
ence. "  Never  did  I  see  face  of  man  or  woman 
express  so  much.  What  nobility  in  the  curve  of 
that  head  !  What  intellect  in  that  brow  !  What 
purity,  courage,  humor,  in  those  eyes !  What 
spirituality  and  what  passion  in  that  mouth ! 
Every  one  of  these  is  as  apparent  as  is  the  physical 
beauty." 

"  Oh,  sir,  it  thrills  me  to  hear  you  speak  of 
Millicent  so.  What  will  you  think  when  you 
see  her,  for  that  picture  is  a  poor  thing  ?  She  has 
every  one  of  those  things  that  you've  said  ;  and  she 
is,  besides,  cultivated  and  witty  beyond  any  woman 
I  have  ever  seen,  and  sympathetic  to  a  miracle. 
Then  she's  so  perfectly  well-dressed, —  so  inde- 
pendent and  individual ;  and  she's  grande  dame, 
too,  I  can  tell  you.  I  can  hardly  wait  for  you  to 
see  her,  sir.  I  want  you  to  thank  her  for  all  she 
has  done  for  me.  Think  of  it  !  I  have  never 
felt  myself  worthy  to  kiss  the  spot  of  carpet  where 
her  beautiful  feet  have  rested  ;  and  yet,  when  I  was 
leaving,  what  do  you  think  she  did  ?  She  reached 
up  with  both  hands,  and  pulled  my  head  down,  and 
kissed  me,  first  on  one  cheek  and  then  on  the 


1 84  STRUAN 

other.  Then  —  oh,  how  I  can  see  her  !  —  she 
drew  back,  still  holding  my  head,  and  looked  into 
my  eyes,  and  laughed.  I  could  never  describe  to 
you  how  Millicent  looks  when  she  laughs  like 
that.  Her  eyes  get  long,  and  twinkle  between 
their  dark  lashes ;  her  lips  just  part  a  little,  and 
show  her  white  teeth ;  and  the  corners  of  her 
mouth  go  in,  and  get  deep.  She  looks  like  a  child 
and  a  sage  and  a  sprite,  all  in  one.  Sometimes  I 
fancy,"  he  added  with  a  change  of  tone,  "  that,  if 
Millicent  were  not  good,  she'd  be  very  bad  ;  for  I 
believe  she  can  do  what  she  likes  with  men." 

"  I  can  understand  it,"  said  Struan,  still  looking 
at  the  picture.  "  I  made  allowance  for  your  boyish 
rhapsodies,  Len ;  but  there  is  no  denying  what 
there  is  in  this  face.  I  respect  and  believe  in  you, 
my  boy,"  he  went  on;  "but  I  devoutly  thank  the 
Lord  that  she  is  good,  and  not  bad.  If  it  had  not 
been  so,  you  would  have  had  a  danger  far  beyond 
any  that  my  youth  ever  knew.  As  it  is,  she  has 
done  you  a  service,  which  you  are  too  young  and 
ignorant  to  understand,  in  having  realized  your 
ideal  of  woman.  Now,  if  you  should  ever  sink 
below  your  highest  possible,  you  will  be  faithless 
and  cowardly,  indeed.  I  am  determined,  my  son, 
that  you  shall  realize  your  rare,  your  almost  un- 
paralleled good  fortune,  and  the  demand  which 


STRUAN  185 

this  woman  makes  upon  your  life.  I  think  you 
do  understand  it  better  than  most  would.  I  have 
dealt  with  you  frankly  from  childhood.  I  have 
not  failed  to  impress  upon  you  my  conviction  that 
the  relations  of  man  and  woman  is  the  most  im- 
portant factor  in  human  existence,  and  that  love  is 
the  master-passion.  The  thing  of  all  others  in 
which  it  seems  to  me  that  the  times  are  out  of 
joint  is  in  the  mistakes  which  men  and  women 
make  on  the  question  of  marriage ;  and  those  mis- 
takes spring  oftenest,  I  believe,  from  the  fact  that 
neither  men  nor  women  are  so  blessed,  usually,  as 
to  have  an  ideal  in  the  opposite  sex  to  live  up  to. 
If  it  so  be  that  boys  and  young  girls  create  such 
an  ideal  out  of  their  own  pure  and  beautiful  imagi- 
nations, contact  with  life  is  apt  to  disappoint  and 
destroy  it.  Why  is  this  ?  One  cause  must  be,  I 
think,  that  the  ideal  of  marriage  —  I  speak  espe- 
cially of  men  —  is  so  low,  so  selfish,  so  unspirit- 
ual.  It  is  that  which  has  kept  this  woman  from 
marrying, —  God  bless  her !  Her  life  is  maimed 
and  incomplete,  as  every  unmarried  life  is,  whether 
man's  or  woman's,  and  I  know  that  in  her  heart 
she  feels  it  so ;  but  it  has  the  compensation  of 
truth  to  its  ideal,  a  far  better  thing  than  a  make- 
shift marriage  could  give.  In  knowing  such  a 
woman  as  this,  my  boy,  you've  got  a  safeguard  for 


i86  STRUAN 

your  future  life  which  should  make  a  mistaken 
marriage  impossible  to  you.  With  the  memory 
of  the  mistake  which  clouded  my  early  life,  this 
assurance  for  you  is  invaluable  to  me." 

He  had  not  said  that  his  later  marriage  had  been 
a  mistake,  Leonard  noticed ;  but  neither  had  he 
said  that  it  had  not  been.  The  boy  felt  that  he 
understood  his  father,  and  even  that  his  father  was 
willing  to  be  understood  by  him,  though  it  would 
have  been  impossible  for  him  to  put  it  into  words, 
—  the  confession  that  his  second  marriage  also 
had  been  a  mistake. 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  shall  never  marry,  I  am  sure,"  said 
Leonard.  "  Not  that  I  don't  long  for  it,  and 
should  feel  myself,  as  you  say,  stunted  and  blighted 
without  it ;  but,  after  knowing  Millicent,  I  feel 
that  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  marry  any 
other  woman." 

His  father  looked  at  him  seriously  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  smiled. 

"  I'm  going  to  make  a  guess,"  he  said.  "  Have 
you  not,  perhaps,  thought  more  or  less  seriously  of 
marrying  Millicent  herself?" 

A  flush  flew  over  Leonard's  face,  and  he  laughed 
with  an  embarrassed  consciousness,  as  he  said  : 

"Yes,  sir,  I  used  to  think  of  it  a  great  deal 
once.  I  don't  know  whether  I  should  ever  have 


STRUAN  187 

got  up  the  courage  to  mention  to  her  such  an  im- 
pertinence ;  but  she  guessed  my  thought  one  day, 
and  questioned  me  about  it." 

"  And  did  she  think  it  an  impertinence  ?  " 
"  Not  in  the  least.  She  treated  it  quite  gravely, 
and  told  me  that  she  had  spoken  of  it  in  order  that 
I  might  look  it  in  the  face,  and  banish  it  at  once. 
She  even  said,  sir,  that  she  did  not  look  upon  even 
so  great  a  difference  in  age,  and  on  what  is  usually 
considered  the  wrong  side,  too,  as  so  great  an  ob- 
stacle to  happiness  in  marriage  as  others  which 
were  disregarded  every  day, —  such  as  lack  of  love, 
lack  of  respect,  lack  of  congeniality.  She  has  her 
own  ideas,  sir;  and  one  of  them  is  that  true  com- 
panionship and  sympathy  are  the  right  basis  of 
marriage.  She  said  she  felt  it  not  impossible  that 
she  might  meet  with  these  in  a  man  much  her 
junior  in  years,  but  with  a  mind  which  was  the 
likeness  and  equal  of  her  own,  and  that,  if  she 
did,  she  would  consider  the  accident  of  age  a  non- 
essential.  She  even  pointed  out  to  me  that  those 
marriages  which  she  had  known  under  such  con- 
ditions had  turned  out  uniformly  well.  She  thinks 
this  is  because  the  women  were  chosen  for  their 
mental  and  spiritual  qualities  rather  than  the  phys- 
ical ones  which  are  apt  to  regulate  a  man's  choice, 
that  the  real  rather  than  the  apparent  settled  the 


1 88  STRUAN 

thing.  There  is  good  sense  in  that,  don't  you 
think  so,  sir  ?  But,  all  the  same,  she  went  on  to 
tell  me  that,  in  the  case  of  herself  and  me,  she  did 
not  recognize  the  elements  of  a  true  union.  She 
said  that,  both  in  mind  and  nature  as  well  as  in 
years  and  experience,  I  was  far  too  young  for  her ; 
but  she  did  say  —  oh,  sir,  I  never  can  forget  that 
she  said  that! — that,  if  she  had  met  me  twenty 
years  ago,  when  there  really  might  have  been  a 
proper  equality  and  adjustment  between  our  nat- 
ures, it  might  have  been  possible.  Think  of 
that !  " 

"  It  will  be,  as  it  ought  to  be,  a  precious  mem- 
ory for  you  always,  my  boy ;  and  I  am  proud  and 
glad  for  you  that  you  have  it.  Whether  Millicent 
is  right  in  her  theory  that  it  is  the  minds  and 
spirits  of  men  and  women  that  should  be  equal 
rather  than  their  mere  bodies,  I  do  not  know. 
It  is  an  interesting  idea.  For  myself,  I  have 
thought  differently ;  and  I  have  reproached  myself 
at  times  for  fear  that  I  might  have  wronged  the 
trustful  girl  who  gave  herself  to  me  so  unquestion- 
ingly,  in  the  very  flower  of  her  youth."  He  paused 
a  moment,  then  looked  at  Leonard  keenly,  and 
went  on  :  "  You  are  too  shrewd,  my  son,  where 
your  father  is  concerned,  not  to  see  clearly.  Al- 
ready it  must  have  become  apparent  to  you  that 


STRUAN  189 

Jenny  and  I  have  some  of  our  interests  apart. 
I  have  yielded  to  an  inevitable  necessity  in  having 
it  so,  but  any  blame  there  may  be  in  the  matter 
rests  with  me.  She  trusted  herself  so  nobly  and 
so  ardently  to  me  that  it  shall  be  always,  as  it  now 
is,  the  first  duty  of  my  life  to  make  her  happy, — 
as  happy  as  I  can." 

Leonard's  face  was  clouded. 

"  Must  unhappiness  be  forever  the  price  of 
greatness  ?  "  he  said.  "  If  you  are  to  feel  that  you 
cannot  make  this  young  girl  happy,  how  you  will 
suffer !  O  my  dearest  father,"  he  added  in  his 
affectionately  impulsive  way,  "  it  seems  to  me  that 
you  must  have  suffered  enough." 

"  No,"  said  Struan,  throwing  back  his  head  and 
bracing  his  shoulders  squarely  as  he  looked  at  his 
son  with  a  smile,  "  I  have  had  as  much  as  my 
share,  perhaps,  of  life's  pain,  but  no  more.  When 
I  see  the  human  race  —  such  a  vast,  unending 
multitude  —  climbing  the  steep  hill  of  life,  each 
bearing  his  load,  I  should  be  sorry  to  walk  in  that 
throng  unburdened.  My  shoulders  are  strong; 
and  I  should  rather  wish  to  take  the  load  of  those 
who  are  weaker,  and  let  them  go  free.  That 
would  be  my  choice,  and  a  man  who  has  what  he 
truly  considers  the  better  part  has  no  reason  to 
complain.  I  do  not  call  myself  unhappy.  Of  all 


STRUAN 

contemptible  traits  that  I  know,  the  sentiment  of 
self-pity  seems  to  me  the  weakest.  Look  at 
Byron.  What  eloquent  volumes  he  wrote  on 
the  subject  of  his  own  woes  !  How  he  called  on 
gods  and  men  to  pity  his  sad  case  !  As  if  any  one 
could  give  pity  to  a  man  who  so  overweeningly 
pitied  himself!  " 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  here,  and  not 
again  renewed. 

In  point  of  fact,  Struan  was  now  at  what  seemed 
to  him  the  dreariest  point  in  his  life  journey.  His 
love  for  Jenny,  fed  from  one  only  of  the  many 
sources  which  go  to  supply  the  continually  recur- 
ring demands  of  marriage,  had  long  ago  begun  to 
wane.  The  consciousness  of  this  was  an  almost 
greater  pain  to  him  than  any  that  he  had  known 
before.  It  was  not  an  ignoble  pain,  for  he  suf- 
fered more  on  her  account  than  on  his  own.  He 
felt  that,  if  he  could  keep  the  knowledge  of  his 
disappointment  from  her,  he  could  bear  it.  If  not, 
—  if  she  found  it  out  in  all  the  depth  and  breadth 
of  its  meaning, —  it  seemed  to  him  that  it  must  al- 
most overwhelm  him. 


XIII 

JENNY  stayed  away  a  week  ;  and,  in  the  few 
hastily  scrawled   notes  that  she  sent  back, 
she  expressed  herself  as  being  so  delighted 
with  her  experience  and  surroundings  that  Struan 
felt  free  to  abandon  himself,  without  compunction, 
to  the  delight  of  being  alone  with  his  son. 

It  was  a  wonderful  week  for  them  both,  for 
Leonard's  youthful  freshness  enriched  his  father  as 
much  as  Struan's  matured  but  equally  ardent  en- 
thusiasm of  life  enriched  the  son.  There  had  al- 
ways been  an  extraordinary  affinity  between  these 
two ;  but,  as  Leonard  had  grown  from  boyhood  to 
manhood,  the  congeniality  of  their  natures  was 
broadened  and  intensified.  They  had  long  talks 
'ogether,  extending  sometimes  far  into  the  morn- 
ing hours ;  and,  besides  this,  they  visited  together, 
took  little  excursions,  and,  best  of  all,  went  to- 
gether to  hear  music.  Leonard  did  not  play  nor 
sing ;  but  he  had  an  exquisite  sensibility  for  music, 
and  a  very  good  knowledge  of  its  theory.  Besides 
this,  he  had  had  access  all  his  life  to  the  very  best 
in  music ;  and  his  taste  had  been  cultivated  by  his 
father's  direction  from  the  time  he  was  a  boy.  In 
191 


192  STRUAN 

this  way  he  had  set  up  so  high  a  standard  that 
Jenny's  brilliant  mediocrity  was  rather  a  trial  to 
him  than  otherwise.  He  knew  the  sort  of  music 
that  his  father  loved  and  craved,  and  it  seemed  to 
him  that  Jenny's  pretty  trolling  must  make  Struan 
feel  almost  as  would  a  starving  man,  if  a  plate 
of  strawberries  were  offered  him. 

One  evening  the  father  and  son  had  dined  in 
town  with  friends  and  had  gone  to  a  concert  after- 
ward, reaching  home  after  midnight.  It  had  been 
a  delightful  and  inspiring  time  ;  and  yet,  somehow, 
the  thought  of  Jenny  knocked  at  the  door  of 
Struan's  heart.  Since  Leonard's  return  he  had 
seen  more  of  his  former  friends  and  associates, — 
the  people  in  whose  company  poor  Jenny  was 
ever  such  an  alien,  and  among  whom  Leonard  was 
so  much  at  home.  Many  of  these  people  were 
relatives  or  early  friends ;  and  Struan  had  found 
the  renewal  of  the  intercourse  with  them,  which 
came  about  through  Len's  return,  so  delightful 
that  it  served  as  a  sort  of  warning  to  him.  For, 
in  spite  of  all  his  love  for  Leonard,  Jenny's  was 
the  strongest  claim  that  he  recognized  in  his  life. 

To-night,  as  he  and  Len  returned  to  the  house 
which  Jenny's  companionship  had  made  home  to 
him,  there  was  a  certain  wistful  compunction  in 
his  heart. 


STRUAN  193 

When  he  opened  the  door  with  his  latch-key 
and  let  himself  into  the  hall,  the  first  object  that 
met  his  eyes  was  Jenny's  immense  travelling 
trunk.  Could  she  have  returned  ?  It  must  be  so. 

It  was  no  great  surprise  to  him,  for  she  had 
said  in  her  last  letter :  "  Expect  me  when  you  see 
me.  I  may  come  any  time."  And  he  had  an- 
swered by  rather  urging  her  to  come  back  as  soon 
as  she  could  do  so  without  spoiling  her  visit.  She 
was  an  independent  body,  and  never  cared  to  be 
met  at  trains,  so  there  was  nothing  startling  in 
the  present  occurrence.  Yet,  somehow,  he  felt 
strangely  moved  by  it. 

In  the  dining-room  he  found  the  remnants  of  a 
hurried  lunch  :  also  one  of  Jenny's  gloves  had  been 
left  upon  the  table.  Evidently,  she  was  here. 

Dismissing  Leonard  to  his  own  room,  he  went 
to  Jenny's.  Opening  the  door  softly,  he  saw  that 
she  was  in  bed  and  fast  asleep.  The  light  was 
turned  low ;  and,  crossing  to  her  side,  he  stood  for 
some  moments  looking  down  at  her. 

She  looked  very  young,  almost  childish.  How 
could  he  ever  have  thought  that  a  girl  with  that 
essentially  youthful  face,  on  which  experience  had 
not  stamped  one  trace,  could  have  been  the  com- 
panion of  his  world-worn  years,  the  sympathizer 
with  his  saddened  manhood  ?  It  was  impossible. 


194  STRUAN 

Never  since  the  very  first  months  of  his  mar- 
riage had  he  tried  to  talk  to  Jenny  of  the  deep 
things  of  his  life.  She  was  a  primitive  creature, 
and  the  problems  that  seemed  difficult  to  him 
were  simple  to  her.  She  believed  frankly  in  hav- 
ing what  you  wanted  without  too  many  qualms  as 
to  how  you  got  it.  She  had  a  strong  will  and  a 
stout  spirit,  a  nature  as  free  from  morbidness  and 
scruples  as  that  of  a  savage. 

Struan,  who  had  looked  at  her  always  through 
the  glorifying  medium  of  his  own  idealizing,  was 
precluded  from  a  critical  judgment  of  her  nature 
and  character.  As  he  looked  down  at  her  now, 
the  tears  came  into  his  eyes.  A  poignant  pity 
for  the  mistake  that  she  had  made  came  to  him, 
with  the  full  consciousness  that  his  second  mar- 
riage had  been  no  more  a  marriage  of  true  minds 
than  the  first.  There  was  some  element  at  work 
in  him  to-night  which  made  the  weight  of  his 
compunction  heavy. 

Intentionally,  he  made  a  noise,  in  the  hope  of 
waking  her.  He  wanted  to  speak  to  her,  to  take 
her  into  his  arms,  and  tell  her  how  fervently  he 
vowed  to  cherish  and  protect  and  love  her  all  his 
life. 

When  she  slept  on,  undisturbed,  he  bent  over, 
laying  his  strong  brown  hand  on  her  little  dimpled 
one,  and  softly  calling  her  name. 


STRUAN  195 

Jenny  opened  her  eyes  with  a  sleepy  frown,  and 
blinked  at  him  for  a  moment.  Then  she  said 
half  petulantly  : 

"  Oh,  don't  wake  me  up.  I'm  nearly  dead  with 
sleep.  Put  that  light  out  of  my  eyes."  And, 
rolling  over  in  bed,  she  drew  a  long  breath,  com- 
posed her  little  body  in  a  yet  more  relaxed  position, 
and  was  asleep. 

He  put  the  light  out,  stepping  softly,  and  left 
the  room,  noiselessly  closing  the  door. 

It  was  many  hours  that  he  lay  on  his  bed,  rest- 
less and  self-tormented.  What  a  miserable  mis- 
take he  had  made  of  his  life  !  How  he  seemed  to 
blight  whatever  he  touched  !  He  could  not  help 
feeling,  because  he  knew  in  his  own  heart  that  his 
love  for  Jenny  was  waning,  that  the  fact  must, 
somehow,  make  her  unhappy.  But  then  he  would 
tell  himself  that  that  was  impossible,  since  the 
secret  was  still  his  own ;  and  he  resolved  anew 
that  she  should  never  know  it.  He  thought,  with 
a  dull,  deep  pain,  of  the  woman  that  he  had  first 
married  ;  and  he  wondered  again  how  it  would  have 
been  with  her,  had  he  left  her  life  untouched  by 
him.  His  common  sense  told  him  that  it  would 
have  made  no  difference,  as  physical  ill-health  and 
melancholy  discontent  seemed  inherent  with  her. 
Yet  he  imagined  that  perhaps  another  man  might 


196  STRUAN 

have  known  how  to  lighten  her  burdens  as  he  had 
not  known. 

To-night  there  came  to  him  a  clearer  vision 
than  he  had  ever  had  before.  He  saw  the  mis- 
takes of  his  life  with  perfect  distinctness.  His 
supreme  error  had  been  in  having  lowered  his  ideal 
of  marriage  and  of  woman.  Even  in  boyhood  he 
had  had  that  ideal,  and  he  had  been  aware  of  cer- 
tain twinges  of  conscience  for  his  unfaithfulness  to 
it  at  the  time  of  his  first  marriage.  That,  how- 
ever, he  could  forgive  himself  on  the  ground  of 
youth.  What  he  could  not  forgive  himself  was 
his  second  marriage.  In  the  recoil  of  his  nature 
from  the  narrow-mindedness,  prudishness,  pietism, 
lack  of  feeling,  in  his  first  wife,  he  had  imagined 
that  a  woman  who  contradicted  all  these  traits  as 
absolutely  as  Jenny  did  must  make  him  happy. 
But  now  he  asked  himself  why  he  had  been  so 
blind  as  to  stop  here  in  his  requirements.  The 
answer  was  obvious.  His  faith  had  faltered.  He 
had  been  so  weak,  so  foolish,  so  blind,  as  to  accept 
as  final  the  witness  of  his  own  limited  experience, 
and  to  believe  that  the  woman  of  his  ideal  did  not 
exist.  He  had  sought  her  so  long  in  the  social 
life  of  cities,  in  the  free  life  of  Bohemia,  in  the 
isolated  life  of  the  country,  and  had  sought  her  in 
vain.  So  he  had  given  up,  like  a  coward,  and  had 
accepted  a  compromise. 


STRUAN  197 

The  pressure  of  life  was  harder  on  him,  in  a 
way,  to-night  than  it  had  ever  been  before.  The 
explanation  of  this  lay,  probably,  in  his  meeting 
with  his  son.  Leonard's  nature  was  much  like 
his  own  ;  and  to  have  seen  and  talked  with  this 
boy,  who  stood  at  the  threshold  of  the  youth 
which  he  looked  back  upon,  made  his  mistakes 
seem  the  more  flagrant.  There  were,  however, 
two  thoughts  of  comfort  to  be  gathered  from  his 
present  situation.  One  was  that  he  could  watch 
and  warn  Leonard,  to  keep  him  from  a  like  mis- 
take. The  other  was  that  he  could  cherish,  pro- 
tect, and,  he  hoped,  brighten  Jenny's  life.  He 
still  believed  that  she  was  happier  with  him  than 
she  could  have  been  without  him.  He  was  able 
to  gratify  abundantly  her  youthful  whims  for 
clothes  and  jewelry  and  pleasure  trips,  and  he 
knew  that  he  had  a  love  for  her  which  would  last 
her  all  her  life,  if  she  had  need  of  it. 

He  fell  asleep  at  last,  soothed  by  the  thought 
that  it  was  left  to  him  at  least  "  to  consume  his 
own  smoke "  and  to  cast  a  clear  light  on  the 
pathway  of  two  dear  beings, —  his  beloved  son  and 
the  still  dear  little  creature  whom  he  had  made  his 
wife. 

It  was  fortunate  for  Struan  that  he  was  at  this 
time  extremely  busy.  He  was  working  with  all 


198  STRUAN 

his  rare  energy  of  body  and  concentration  of  mind 
on  the  preparations  for  a  great  musical  festival 
which  he  was  to  conduct  in  New  York  a  little 
later.  He  pressed  Leonard  into  service  as  his 
assistant,  and  made  him  useful  in  many  important 
ways,  his  pride  in  the  big  fellow,  when  he  would 
introduce  him  as  his  son,  giving  him  a  joy  that 
made  his  face  radiant. 

Leonard,  on  the  other  hand,  compelled  his 
father  to  break  through  the  rule  of  years  past,  and 
go  with  him  occasionally  into  society.  He  even 
beguiled  him  to  a  ball,  where  Struan  would  have 
been  intolerably  bored  but  for  his  pleasure  in 
watching  his  great  handsome  boy,  towering  above 
the  rest  of  the  company,  as  he  strolled  about  with 
a  certain  foreign  grace,  which  was  recently  ac- 
quired and  which  was  observed  with  undisguised 
interest  by  pretty  girls  and  gracious  mammas. 
Young  Struan  was  shortly  to  come  into  a  very 
good  property  by  inheritance  from  an  uncle  for 
whom  he  had  been  named  ;  and,  besides  this,  his 
family  connections  were  of  the  best.  The  father 
was  looked  upon  in  his  own  family  as  decidedly 
erratic,  because  of  his  having  adopted  the  career 
of  a  musician  ;  but  he  had  made  himself  so  dis- 
tinguished in  his  line  that  they  were  all  more  than 
willing  to  acknowledge  him  now. 


STRUAN  199 

The  ball  was  a  large  and  brilliant  one.  Leon- 
ard, fresh  from  Paris,  with  the  garments  and  man- 
ners that  betokened  a  thorough  usage  de  monde  in 
spite  of  his  boyishness,  with  his  distinguished 
height,  his  reputation  as  a  promising  young  artist, 
and  with  a  certain  unusualness  which  came  from 
a  controlled  discontent  with  his  surroundings,  was 
to  many,  an  interesting  figure  in  the  room. 

He  danced  with  each  of  the  beauties,  who  found 
his  dancing  delightful.  The  bow  with  which  he 
handed  them  back  to  their  chaperons  was  the  per- 
fection of  serious  good  breeding ;  and  it  had  in  it, 
moreover,  a  certain  air  of  finality,  due,  perhaps,  to 
the  fact  that  in  no  case  did  he  dance  a  second 
time  with  any  one.  It  was  noticed  that  he  talked 
little.  Certainly,  he  would  not  have  been  taken 
here  for  the  eager,  ardent  fellow  that  he  was. 
Once  or  twice  only  his  set  features  were  seen  to 
break  into  a  smile  of  light,  and  then  it  was  when 
he  caught  his  father's  eye  resting  upon  him  affec- 
tionately. 

"  Jove  !  what  a  set  of  brutes,  sir  !  "  Leonard 
said  once,  leaving  a  party  of  young  men  with 
whom  he  had  been  talking,  and  joining  his  father. 
"  And  the  girls,  too  !  They  are  a  set  of  dressed- 
up  dolls,  and  seem  not  to  know  what  ideas  mean. 
If  this  is  society,  sir,  you  need  not  fear  its  allure- 


200  STRUAN 

ments  for  me.  Give  me  rather  forever  the  Latin 
Quarter  and  the  painter  beggars  and  the  jolly  little 
French  grisettes.  It  seems  to  me,  by  all  odds,  a 
worthier  life.  Or  give  me,  better  still,  a  life  in 
the  country,  with  the  power  to  make  pictures  ;  or, 
best  of  all,  some  long  quest  of  danger  and  daring 
for  Millicent's  sake." 

Struan  smiled  contentedly.  His  son's  dissatis- 
faction in  these  things  was  joy  to  his  heart. 
There  was  a  wonderful  quality  in  the  man's  smile. 
All  the  marks  of  care  and  pain  that  were  on  his 
face  seemed  suddenly  to  disappear,  leaving  only 
radiance  behind.  Surely,  if  a  man  could  smile 
like  that  at  ninety,  he  must  still  look  young. 
This  thought,  or  something  like  it,  occurred  to 
Leonard  as  he  met  that  smiling  glance. 

"  What  a  thing  it  is  to  be  your  son,  sir  !  "  he 
said.  "  The  only  real  pleasure  of  the  evening  has 
been  in  having  my  hand  wrung  now  and  then  by 
some  pleasant  old  chap  who  greets  me  as  Lucien 
Struan's  son.  Not  that  I  call  you  old,  sir,"  he 
added  hastily :  "  any  man  younger  than  you 
seems  to  me  crude  and  immature ;  but,  somehow, 
ail  the  men  who  were  your  college  chums  and 
contemporaries  seem  so  much  older.  Can't  we 
get  away  from  this  now,  sir,  and  go  somewhere 
and  have  a  smoke  and  a  talk  ?  I  have  so  much 


STRUAN  201 

to  talk  over  with  you  that  this  seems  a  terrible 
waste  of  time." 

They  did  soon  after  make  their  escape,  equally 
pleased  to  be  alone  together.  It  was  a  comfort  to 
Struan  to  know  that  he  need  have  no  fear  that  his 
son  might,  as  many  of  his  family  had  done,  slip 
into  the  life  of  a  social  idler. 

The  one  or  two  dinners  which  they  took  to- 
gether with  Struan's  friends  were  much  better  than 
the  ball.  Leonard  was  very  eager,  and  anything 
that  deserved  the  name  of  life  was  interesting  to 
him.  Most  of  the  men  at  these  dinners  had  tasted 
of  life  deeply  in  some  way  or  other.  There  were 
travellers,  scientists,  musicians,  actors,  authors, 
among  them,  to  whose  words  the  boy  listened 
with  an  absorption  which  they  found  extremely 
stimulating.  Struan  noticed  a  fine  respect  in 
Leonard's  manner  to  older  men,  though  he  put 
himself  wonderfully  on  a  level  with  them  as  an 
investigator  and  student  of  life.  And  these  men 
themselves  spoke  and  listened  to  Leonard  with  an 
interest  and  attention  no  less  gratifying  to  his  father. 

In  Leonard,  at  least,  Struan  was  happy.  What 
situation  has  not  its  compensations  ?  From  that 
sad,  early  marriage  had  come  this  wonderful  boy. 
Certainly,  that  mistake  seemed  justified  by  it. 
But  what  about  the  second,  greater,  more  irretriev- 
able mistake  ? 


XIV 

ONE  morning,  on  going  to  his  office,  Struan 
found  a  box  awaiting  him.  It  proved  to 
be  the  present  that  Leonard  had  spoken 
of,  which  had  been  detained  at  the  custom-house. 
Opening  the  box,  Struan  took  out  a  rather  small 
canvas,  on  which  was  painted  a  head  of  Leonard. 
His  face  kindled  with  interest  at  the  first  glimpse 
which  he  caught.  He  went  to  set  it  against 
the  wall,  at  the  end  of  the  grand  piano ;  and,  as 
he  did  so,  a  bit  of  paper  stuck  in  the  back  of  the 
stretcher  caught  his  attention.  The  words  on  it 

were  : 

Leonard  Lucien  Struan. 
Painted  for  Leonard's  father  by  Millicent  Evleth. 

Struan  stood  some  minutes  looking  at  this  bit  of 
paper.  The  handwriting  had  an  individuality  that 
interested  him.  Presently  he  propped  the  picture 
against  the  wall,  and  then  seated  himself  on  the 
music-stool,  the  piano's  length  away  from  it.  He 
looked  at  it  steadily. 

"  Oh  !  Wonderful  !  "  he  said  aloud,  with  a 
smile  and  a  toss  of  the  head  that  conceded  the 
point  at  once. 

Then  he  leaned  forward,  resting  his  folded  arms 

202 


STRUAN  203 

upon  the  keys  of  the  piano,  and  making  a  discord 
of  sound.  He  appeared  not  to  notice  it,  however, 
as  his  gaze  grew  serious  in  its  concentration  on  the 
picture. 

It  impressed  him  in  two  ways.  He  was  a 
judge  of  painting,  and  he  saw  that  this  picture  pos- 
sessed a  certain  quality  which  stimulated  interest 
in  the  painter.  What  sort  of  head  and  hand  was 
it  that  had  produced  this  unusual  effect  ?  There 
was  fine  art  here  ;  and  there  was  more,  besides.  A 
disciplined  hand  had  held  the  brush;  but  what 
manner  of  spirit  was  it  that  had  put  on  canvas  the 
mystery  of  that  young  face  ?  Struan  gazed  on  the 
beloved  features  till  his  heart  was  stirred  to  tears. 

This  was  more  than  a  picture  of  Leonard's 
features  and  coloring.  It  was  the  picture  of  his 
soul,  pure,  passionate,  intense,  and  waiting  to  be 
wrought  upon  for  good  or  evil.  Never  had  his 
responsibilities  as  a  father  so  come  home  to  him. 
Never  had  he  felt  a  deeper  emotion  of  thankful- 
ness than  now,  at  the  thought  that  this  woman 
would  be  his  helper  in  sending  Leonard  out  to  the 
battle  of  life  equipped  with  arms  and  armor. 

Millicent  was  a  wonderful  being.  He  felt  this 
intensely.  Without  having  seen  her  since  she  was 
a  passionate,  imperious  child,  he  realized  her  more 
actually  than  the  women  he  had  known  for  years. 


204  STRUAN 

Her  photograph,  her  writing,  her  painting, —  all 
of  these  indicated  the  same  remarkable  personality. 
The  same  impression  was  stamped  on  Len  himself, 
in  whom  his  father  recognized  a  subtle  change  that 
dated  from  the  beginning  of  his  acquaintance  with 
this  woman.  The  influence  of  the  ideal  which 
she  had  set  up  for  him  could  be  seen  in  almost 
everything  that  he  did. 

Struan  rested  long  in  the  contemplation  of  that 
picture,  seeing  beyond  it  into  its  creator's  heart. 
It  fascinated  him  also  because  of  its  unusual 
method.  Evidently,  it  had  been  rapid  work.  It 
was  done  with  a  daring  broadness,  dashed  on  with 
the  fire  of  enthusiastic  impulse.  At  last,  roused 
by  the  physical  discomfort  of  his  arms  upon  the 
keys,  he  moved,  making  again  that  discord  of 
sound.  It  jarred  his  senses  painfully  this  time; 
and,  to  put  it  quite  to  flight,  he  began  to  play. 

As  he  played  on,  a  deeper  and  deeper  feeling 
glowed  in  his  dark  eyes.  The  youthful  inspira- 
tion which  had  once  made  him  believe  that  he 
should  one  day  be  a  great  composer  stirred  pas- 
sionately in  his  heart.  He  had  not  known  feel- 
ings such  as  these  for  years.  He  was  tasting 
again,  in  his  matured  and  saddened  manhood,  the 
nectar  of  youth.  The  blood  beat  throbbingly 
through  his  veins  to  his  heart.  Purposes  and  as- 
pirations almost  forgotten  came  flocking  back. 


STRUAN  205 

What  a  great  man,  in  every  deep  and  honest 
sense,  he  had  expected  to  become  !  And  what 
was  the  indomitable  force  in  his  life  which  had 
held  him  back  ?  There  could  be  no  doubt  of 
that.  It  was  the  repeated  wrong  of  two  mistaken 
marriages.  Other  men  might  carve  out  their  des- 
tinies independent  of  the  influence  of  woman  ;  but 
not  he  !  That  sympathy,  inspiration,  companion- 
ship, was  his  supreme  need.  He  felt  his  life 
crippled  because  he  had  it  not.  He  knew  that 
without  it  he  should  never  realize  his  best,  that 
without  the  complement  of  woman  he  was  imper- 
fect and  inadequate. 

He  had  stopped  playing ;  and  he  leaned  some 
moments  with  his  elbows  on  the  music-rack,  and 
his  face  hid  in  his  hands. 

He  looked  up  at  last,  and  saw  Leonard's  beau- 
tiful, hopeful  face  confronting  him.  The  comfort 
of  it  stole  into  his  heart.  He  had  still  one  splen- 
did thing  to  live  for, —  to  help  this  boy  to  realize 
his  best,  to  hold  him  back  from  the  fatal  errors 
by  which  he  had  ruined  his  own  life.  If  he  felt 
strong  to  do  this  and  certain  of  gaining  his  end, 
his  confidence  came  not  from  any  power  in  him- 
self. It  was  in  his  ability  to  point  to  the  ideal 
clothed  in  flesh,  the  like  of  which,  if  he  had 
known,  his  youth  and  manhood  had  been  saved 
alive. 


XV 

MISS  EVLETH'S  object  in  coming  to 
America  was  to  visit  her  grandmother, 
who,  after  living  abroad  for  some  years, 
had  come  back  to  her  old  country  home  near  New 
York. 

Millicent's  parents  were  dead ;  and  the  aunt 
with  whom  she  lived  in  Paris  was  her  father's  sis- 
ter, while  old  Mrs.  Milner  was  her  grandmother 
on  the  maternal  side. 

Leonard  met  his  lady  at  the  steamer,  and,  as  he 
had  predicted,  took  her  out  of  the  hands  of  a  score 
of  welcoming  friends,  and  carried  her  off  to  him- 
self. 

It  was  like  bringing  fairyland  bodily  to  this 
nineteenth-century  earth, —  to  be  driving  along  the 
New  York  streets,  over  bumping  cobble-stones, 
with  Millicent  at  his  side.  Her  very  costume 
was  food  for  contentment  to  Leonard.  How 
could  anything  so  simple  give  such  an  effect  of 
extraordinary  charm  ?  Her  voice,  too,  after  the 
vibrant  twang  of  some  of  his  recent  acquaintances, 
was  a  thing  to  make  him  close  his  eyes  and  rest. 
It  was  the  same  with  her  accent  and  utterance ; 
206 


STRUAN  207 

and,  as  for  her  smile,  when  she  turned  it  on  him, 
her  eyes  made  long  and  shadowy  by  half-drooped 
lids,  he  felt  that  it  was  of  no  use  to  try  not  to 
worship  her.  Anything  short  of  worship  was 
nonsense. 

She  was  a  good  deal  exhausted  from  the  voyage, 
which  had  been  rough ;  and  an  air  of  physical 
weariness  made  her  seem  gentler  than  usual.  Or- 
dinarily, her  attitude  toward  the  world  was  one 
in  which  there  was  no  danger  of  self-betrayal. 
Leonard  had  seen  her  many  a  time  without  that 
mask,  but  he  had  seen  her  wear  it  so  uniformly 
with  others  that  he  was  well  aware  of  his  privi- 
leges. 

On  their  way  to  the  country  they  had  a  deli- 
cious talk,  which  Millicent  inaugurated  by  saying, 

"  Well,  how's  the  Prince  of  Wales  ?  " 

Leonard  glowed  with  delight  at  the  revival  of 
this  old  joke.  Millicent  had  long  ago  applied  this 
title  to  his  father,  because  of  Len's  habit  of  ad- 
dressing him  as  "  sir."  He  had  a  graphic  way  of 
repeating  his  conversations  with  his  father,  and 
the  frequent  recurrence  of  this  word  had  amused 
Millicent  at  first ;  but,  when  she  saw  the  sort  of 
romantic  respect  that  it  rested  upon,  she  declared 
that  she  liked  it.  He  never  used  it  to  any  other 
man,  no  matter  how  much  his  senior  he  might  be. 


io8  STRUAN 

Millicent  then  proceeded  to  draw  the  young 
fellow  out,  as  she  was  practised  in  doing.  While 
she  alternately  soothed  and  laughed  at  him,  he  de- 
tailed his  grievances  concerning  the  society  of 
which  he  was  supposed  to  form  a  part.  He 
ended  by  declaring  that,  but  for  his  father,  he 
would  pack  up  his  traps  and  go  to  Paris,  never  to 
return. 

"You  would  find  society  there  the  same,"  she 
said,  "  and,  in  some  senses,  worse.  Your  knowl- 
edge of  Paris  is  Bohemia.  What  did  you  know 
of  the  social  life  ?  " 

"  I  knew  you." 

"  And  I'm  an  American.  Besides  that,  I'm 
a  Bohemian,  too,  to  those  who  know  me.  I'm 
located  by  circumstances  in  society,  but  those  who 
know  me  understand  that  it  is  not  my  real  ele- 
ment. Neither  is  it  yours.  Our  element,  yours 
and  mine,  is  the  world,  is  life,  wherever  it  is 
honestly  expressed  ;  and  life  in  all  places  that  are 
acting,  growing,  and  feeling,  is  about  equally  inter- 
esting, I  imagine.  There  must  be  most  interest- 
ing people  in  such  a  great  and  progressive  city  as 
New  York,  for  instance." 

Leonard  seemed  a  little  reluctant  to  admit  it. 

"  Besides,"  Millicent  went  on,  "  there's  your 
father.  There's  a  great  man.  He  has  spent  his 


STRUAN  209 

life  in  nourishing  and  stimulating  the  weak  and 
timid  sentiment  for  music  which  this  country  has, 
and  has  accomplished,  single-handed,  miracles  al- 
most. He  has  shown  himself  quite  superior  alike 
to  disappointments  and  rewards.  You  know  by 
hearsay  ;  but  I  remember  when  a  brilliant  career 
was  offered  him  abroad,  and  he  would  not  even 
consider  it,  because  he  felt  that  his  services  were 
owed  to  his  country.  It  is  fine,  when  you  stop  to 
think  of  it, —  a  thing,  I'm  pretty  sure,  he's  never 
done." 

11  How  do  you  know  my  father  so  well  ?  "  said 
Leonard.  "  It  often  surprises  me." 

"  Oh,  it's  a  sort  of  intuition  that  I've  had  about 
him  always  ;  and  then,  too,  I  judge  him  a  little 
by  his  son." 

Leonard  flushed. 

"Never  do  that,"  he  said.  "  I  implore  you  not 
to.  There  are  two  things  which  make  me  beside 
myself  with  impatience  to  be  and  do  something 
good.  One  is  that  I  am  my  father's  son.  The 
other  is  that  I  am  your  cousin  and  your  friend  and 
your  knight." 

Millicent  smiled,  gently  and  seriously.  She 
had  learned  exactly  how  to  control  Leonard's 
ardor  about  her,  when  it  got  beyond  discreet  limits. 
She  knew  now  that  the  boy  was  in  a  mood  in 


2io  STRUAN 

which  he  longed  to  throw  himself  at  her  feet  in 
the  carriage,  and  kiss  the  soles  of  her  shoes. 

So  she  broke  in  on  the  concentration  of  his 
mood  by  saying  seriously  : 

u  Tell  me  about  your  father,  Len,  and  tell  me 
about  his  wife.  I  am  anxious  to  have  in  words 
the  impressions  that  you  could  not  write.  Don't 
hesitate  to  speak  freely.  I  am  prepared  for  what 
you  have  to  say.  I  know  by  your  very  silence 
that  this  marriage  has  been  a  mistake." 

They  had  left  the  city  behind  them,  and  were 
driving  on  a  country  road.  It  was  growing  late, 
and  the  gathering  dusk  made  their  faces  indistinct 
to  each  other.  The  knowledge  of  this  was  a 
relief  to  Millicent ;  for,  as  she  listened  to  Leon- 
ard's brief  story,  she  felt  a  stronger  sense  of  regret 
than  she  was  willing  to  show. 

When  Leonard  ceased  speaking,  he  waited  for 
her  to  make  some  comment.  It  was  several  mo- 
ments before  she  did  so.  Then  she  said  : 

"  Poor  Lucien  Struan  !  There  seems  to  be  a 
curse  attached  to  qualities  such  as  his.  But,  if 
the  curse  is  for  him  and  the  greatness  is  to  benefit 
the  world,  I  imagine  he  can  be  content." 

"  How  well  you  know  him,  Millicent !  It's 
very  strange,  for  he  seems  in  some  mysterious 
way  to  have  the  same  sort  of  instinct  about  you." 


STRUAN  211 

At  this  point  the  carriage  turned  into  the  fa- 
miliar old  entrance  to  her  grandmother's  place, 
which  Millicent  had  not  seen  for  years.  Old 
Mrs.  Milner  was  a  relative  of  Leonard's,  also ; 
and  he  had  arranged  with  her  that  he  was  to 
bring  Millicent  out  to  her.  He  was  a  favorite 
with  the  old  lady,  and  she  had  begged  him  to 
spend  as  much  of  his  time  as  possible  with  her 
during  her  grand-daughter's  visit. 


XVI 

THE  occasion  of  Struan's  first  meeting  with 
Millicent  was  a  picture  exhibition,  at 
which  the  works  of  some  young  Ameri- 
can artists  studying  in  Paris  were  shown. 

It  was  the  day  after  her  arrival  that,  in  fulfil- 
ment of  an  agreement  made  with  his  son,  Struan 
went  to  the  exhibition  rooms  to  meet  Leonard 
and  his  fair  lady.  It  made  him  smile  to  think  of 
Leonard's  excitement  in  the  approaching  meeting. 
He  was  deeply  interested  in  it  himself;  but  his  life 
was  an  active  and  practical  one,  and  just  now 
intensely  busy.  He  had  not  much  time  for  the 
dreams  in  which  he  had  indulged  on  seeing  Milli- 
cent's  photograph  and  her  portrait  of  Len.  The 
busy  life  seemed  now  the  real  and  important  one ; 
the  other,  impalpable  and  impractical. 

Struan's  work  had  gone  well  that  morning,  and 
he  was  feeling  and  showing  that  spirit  of  buoyancy 
and  bonhomie  which  all  the  disappointments  of  his 
life  had  not  been  able  to  crush  out  of  him. 

Many  of  the  people  present  were  known  to 
him  ;  and  he  was  stopped,  almost  before  he  had 
crossed  the  threshold,  by  the  warm  greetings  of 
212 


STRUAN  213 

friends.  It  was  no  wonder  they  were  glad  to 
see  him,  for  he  showed  such  cordial  pleasure  in 
meeting  them.  There  were  old  people,  young 
people,  and  children  among  them  ;  and  whenever 
any  one  of  them  said,  "  There's  Mr.  Struan  !  " 
there  was  a  ring  of  genuine  feeling  in  their  voices. 

His  manner,  as  he  exchanged  these  greetings, 
was  really  that  of  a  happy  man.  Indeed,  there 
was  an  element  in  Struan's  nature  which  made 
prolonged  and  unrelieved  gloom  impossible  to 
him. 

Very  soon  he  caught  sight  of  the  pair  for  whom 
he  was  looking.  They  were  easily  distinguishable, 
not  only  because  of  Leonard's  height,  but  also  by 
reason  of  a  certain  unusualness  in  the  appear- 
ance of  his  companion,  who  also  appeared  tall, 
even  when  standing  by  Len.  Her  back  was 
turned ;  and  her  figure,  in  its  foreign-made  cos- 
tume, was  distinguished  as  well  as  beautiful. 
Struan's  sense  of  pleasure  in  this  meeting  quick- 
ened as  he  looked  at  her.  The  pair  turned  and 
were  moving  toward  him.  At  the  same  moment 
they  caught  sight  of  him. 

Struan's  face  was  as  eager  as  Leonard's  could 
have  been,  as  he  came  up  with  both  hands  out- 
stretched, and  took  Millicent's  in  a  cordial  grasp. 
Leonard,  looking  on,  grew  pale  with  the  emotion 
of  this  moment. 


214  STRUAN 

"  What  a  joy  this  is,  my  dear  cousin  !  "  Struan 
said.  Leonard  saw  him  fix  his  eyes  on  her  as 
if  his  gaze  were  cleared  of  every  impediment 
that  kept  him  from  seeing  straight  into  her  soul. 

As  Millicent,  smiling,  too,  returned  the  greet- 
ing, Struan's  mind  was  working  in  a  whirl.  Had 
he  obeyed  the  impetuous  promptings  of  his  nature, 
he  would  have  flung  his  hat  up  to  the  ceiling,  and 
given  a  cry  of  triumph. 

Leonard  listened,  wordless,  while  they  talked. 

"  I  remember,"  said  Struan,  holding  her  eyes 
with  that  intense  gaze  of  his  which  seemed  to 
create  for  them  a  world  apart,  and  to  shut  out,  as 
with  an  impassable  barrier,  the  world  of  fashion 
and  convention  by  which  they  were  actually  sur- 
rounded,— "  I  remember  when  one  of  your  pet 
canaries  died,  and  how  inconsolable  you  were 
because  your  mother  would  not  allow  you  to  kill 
its  mate  to  be  buried  with  it.  You  cried  more 
over  the  living  bird  than  the  dead  one,  and  would 
not  look  at  it  because  you  felt  that  it  reproached 
you  with  its  life,  and  for  not  using  the  power  you 
possessed  to  prevent  this  separation  from  its  mate." 

"  Oh,  do  you  remember  that  ?  "  said  beautiful 
Millicent,  ardently.  "  It  is  one  of  the  most  vivid 
memories  of  my  life.  I  remember,  too,  that  you 
were  the  only  person  who  seemed  to  understand 


STRUAN  2x5 

my  feeling,  and  how  passionately  grateful  I  was  to 
you  for  it.  I  remember  distinctly  how  you  looked 
in  knickerbockers  and  long,  thin,  black-stockinged 
legs,  and  a  stiff  white  collar  turned  down  outside 
your  jacket." 

"  And  you  !  "  exclaimed  Struan  :  "  you  wore  all- 
over  white  pinafores  and  what  was  called  a  <•  round 
comb,'  which  was  continually  getting  awry  be- 
cause of  the  impetuosity  of  your  movements." 

"  Ah,"  she  said  gravely,  "  surely  you  and  I  are 
not  that  boy  and  girl !  I  often  wonder  in  what 
respect  we  are  the  same  as  our  childish  selves. 
Scientists  tell  us  that  our  bodies  are  completely 
changed  every  seven  years ;  and,  certainly,  our 
minds  and  our  consciousness  are  in  no  way  the 
same.  With  body,  soul,  and  spirit  utterly  differ- 
ent, there  can  be  no  identity  except  what  memory 
gives." 

"  There  you  are  wrong,  I  think,"  said  Struan, 
eagerly.  "  Identity  is  a  subtler  and  stronger  thing 
than  any  of  these,  and  we  are  the  essential  evolu- 
tion of  that  identical  self.  I  am  absolutely  certain 
that  you  to-day  are  the  true  development  of  that 
little  girl  whose  heart  ached  so  to  separate  the 
mated  birds.  That  self  is  the  same,  in  an  ex- 
panded and  matured  form,  which  would  influence 
you  now." 


216  STRUAN 

"  Ah,  yes  !  perhaps  so,"  she  said  with  a  little 
sigh ;  and  then  she  caught  sight  of  some  object  in 
the  distance  that  made  her  start,  looking  suddenly 
excited. 

"  I  think,"  she  said  eagerly,  "  that  I  recognize 
some  one  I  have  not  seen  for  years, —  some  one 
I  am  most  anxious  to  see  again.  Oh,  it  is ! " 
And  she  walked  hastily  across  the  room  toward 
a  richly  dressed  woman  with  a  dark,  cold  face, 
who  stood  looking  up  at  a  picture. 

At  the  sound  of  some  words  from  Millicent, 
she  turned. 

Struan  and  Leonard,  watching  them,  saw  Milli- 
cent take  both  her  hands  and  hold  them,  while  the 
two  women  looked  into  each  other's  eyes,  talking 
earnestly.  Millicent's  face  was  full  of  an  ab- 
sorbed purpose.  The  face  of  the  other  woman 
expressed  wonder  more  than  any  warmer  feeling. 
In  a  moment  Millicent  took  leave  of  her  com- 
panion with  an  affectionate  smile,  which  the  other 
returned  in  a  half-doubting  way. 

When  Millicent  rejoined  them,  her  manner 
seemed  a  little  preoccupied,  as  if  from  her  late 
interview;  and  nothing  more  pressing  seemed  to 
present  itself  than  to  walk  around  and  look  at  the 
pictures. 

Presently  Struan  spoke  to  her  of  her  head  of 


STRUAN  217 

Leonard,  and  his  enthusiasm  gave  her  an  evident 
delight  that  he  thought  argued  a  somewhat  ex- 
traordinary humility. 

"  Do  you  really  like  it  so  much  ?  "  she  said  in 
her  rich,  low-toned  voice,  which  differed  from  some 
of  the  voices  around  them  as  the  sound  of  whis- 
pering leaves  differs  from  the  croaking  of  a  tree- 
frog  near  by.  "  Oh,  I  should  like  you  to  like  my 
work  !  And  I  should  like,  if  you  could  spare  the 
time,  to  do  a  head  of  you  !  " 

"  Spare  the  time  ?  I  should  rather  think  so  ! 
Only  it  will  have  to  be  after  the  musical  festival  is 
over.  You  have  not  heard  of  that  scheme  of 
mine,  perhaps,  though  you  knew  —  did  you  not  ? 
—  that  I  was  a  professional  musician." 

"Ask  Leonard  about  that.  He  will  tell  you 
with  what  pride  I  have  followed  your  career. 
You've  been  very  brave  to  hold  out  as  you  have. 
I've  watched  for  many  years  to  see  if  you  would 
give  up  and  own  yourself  conquered.  It's  been 
help  and  strength  to  me  that  you  did  not." 

"You  should  have  given  me  the  help  and 
strength  of  knowing  that  you  watched  and  cared," 
said  Struan. 

"  As  if  you  needed  help  from  any  !  "  she  said 
with  a  gently  mocking  smile. 

And,  in   truth,  her    feeling    about    Struan    was 


2i8  STRUAN 

pre-eminent,  for  the  very  reason  that  she  felt  him 
so  strong  in  himself  as  not  to  need  the  helps  that 
other  men  required,  when,  in  point  of  fact,  per- 
haps no  man  she  knew  was  as  dependent  as  this 
one  on  a  certain  kind  of  help  —  that  which  the 
manly  asks  of  the  womanly. 

He  did  not  answer  her  in  words,  but  there  was 
a  denial  in  his  look. 

Presently  he  said  : 

"  It  seems  rather  strange  that,  in  my  various 
visits  to  Europe,  I  have  always  missed  you.  How 
long  is  it  since  you  were  in  America  ? " 

"  Twenty  years  ;   and  then  /  missed  you" 

Struan  smiled. 

"  It  seems  impossible,  when  one  looks  at  you, 
that  you  can  say  '  twenty  years '  so  lightly,"  he 
said. 

"  Sometimes  I  say  it  rather  heavily.  It  seems 
a  long,  long  while  since  I  was  young  —  in  the 
way  Len  is  young,  I  mean ;  for  in  some  things 
my  feelings  seem  to  freshen.  You  remember, 
perhaps,  that  there  is  a  difference  of  just  three 
years  in  our  ages." 

"  You  are  really  forty  ?  "  said  Struan,  half  un- 
believingly. 

"  Yes,  really  forty,"  she  answered,  "  and  not  at 
all  sorry  to  be  so.  I  don't  care  much  for  youth. 


STRUAN  219 

I  make  the  one  exception  of  Leonard,  and  I  think 
it  is  because  he  has  so  much  unyouthfulness  in 
him  that  I  find  him  so  congenial.  The  quality  of 
youth  is  pleasing  to  me,  as  a  rule,  only  in  children. 
Grown-up  young  folks  possess  it  so  much  more 
imperfectly;  and,  at  the  same  time,  they  lack  the 
strong  charm  of  experience  and  maturity.  Given 
an  inexperienced,  unthinking  human  being,  I  cer- 
tainly prefer  it  in  the  form  of  a  child." 

While  she  spoke,  Struan  looked  at  her  thought- 
fully. Her  face  had  undoubtedly  lost  something, 
both  in  color  and  outline,  of  the  charm  of  mere 
youth ;  but  her  skin  had  the  purity  of  perfect 
health,  and  time  had  done  its  work  on  the  features 
with  a  gracious,  even  a  glorifying,  hand.  She 
could  not  possibly  have  been  so  beautiful  at 
twenty  as  she  was  now  —  at  least,  not  to  eyes 
that  saw  beauty  as  did  Struan's.  And  with  Leon- 
ard it  was  just  the  same.  It  was  the  thought  and 
feeling  and  experience  which  the  boy  had  found 
in  Millicent's  face  which  had  given  him  his  fine 
scorn  of  the  most  blooming  bud  that  the  ranks  of 
society  had  made  known  to  him. 

A  little  later,  Millicent's  attention  being  claimed 
by  some  acquaintances,  Struan  and  Leonard  had 
an  opportunity  to  speak  of  her.  Some  of  the 
crowd  that  passed  commented  upon  the  absorbed 


220  STRUAN 

talk  of  the  father  and  son.  Could  that  talk  have 
been  overheard  it  might  have  caused  some  com- 
ment that  here,  in  this  nineteenth-century  time 
and  place,  were  two  men  of  far  different  ages  who 
spoke  with  an  admiration  that  was  in  great  part 
reverence  of  a  modern  woman  who  wore  fashion- 
able clothes,  lived  in  the  thick  of  the  world,  not 
claiming  any  apartness  from  it,  and  yet  so  lived  as 
to  have  inspired  in  these  two  modern  men  the 
same  impulse  to  do  great  deeds  and  live  great 
lives  as  the  ladies  of  old  had  inspired  in  their 
knights.  The  tasks  were  greater  because  the 
conditions  were  more  difficult,  but  the  mind  and 
heart  of  the  woman  were  well  adjusted  to  them. 


XVII 

IN  the  deepening  sweetness  of  the  mild  spring 
afternoon  Struan  found  himself  seated  at 
Millicent's  side  in  the  carriage  which  was  to 
take  them  back  to  Mrs.  Milner's.  It  was  a  vic- 
toria ;  and  Leonard,  who  had  come  in  with  Milli- 
cent,  insisted  on  giving  his  seat  to  his  father,  and 
going  out  by  train.  It  was  a  drive  of  eight  or  nine 
miles ;  and,  under  the  conduct  of  Mrs.  Milner's 
old  coachman  and  his  fat  horses,  there  was  the 
prospect  of  a  long  talk.  Struan  had  made  his  ar- 
rangement to  spend  the  night,  and  go  into  town 
by  an  early  train  next  morning. 

During  their  drive  through  town  they  were 
more  or  less  engrossed  in  bowing  to  acquaintances 
and  in  discussing  the  pictures  they  had  seen  ;  but, 
when  they  were  on  the  country  road,  Millicent, 
with  a  change  of  tone,  said  abruptly  : 

u  Did  you  notice  that  handsome  woman  whom 
I  spoke  to  at  the  gallery  ?  " 

Struan  answered  that  he  had. 

"  Do  you  know  anything  of  her  ?  Had  you 
ever  seen  her  before  ?  " 

"  Nothing  whatever.     Never,"  he  said,  answer 
ing  both  questions. 

221 


222  STRUAN 

"  I  am  deeply  interested  to  know  what  her  life 
is  now,"  said  Millicent,  "  or,  rather,  what  her  heart 
and  soul  are.  I  fear  I  know  all  too  well  about 
her  life."  She  paused  a  moment,  and  then,  in 
answer  to  Struan's  look  of  interest,  went  on  :  "I 
knew  her  very  well  as  a  young  girl.  Circum- 
stances threw  us  together,  and  she  impulsively 
took  me  into  her  confidence.  She  was  a  foreigner, 
with  a  reckless,  intriguing,  card-playing  father,  a 
spendthrift  nobleman,  who  did  not  hesitate  to  throw 
her  into  positions  of  great  danger.  At  last  he 
died,  and  she  wanted  to  go  on  the  stage.  I  tried 
to  hold  her  back,  for  I  knew  the  life  would  only 
add  to  the  dangers  of  her  position.  She  went  off 
to  study  for  the  stage,  however ;  and  I  did  what  I 
could  to  introduce  her  to  people  who  would  hold 
her  up  to  her  best,  and  for  a  while  her  letters  to 
me  were  most  satisfactory.  Then  came  months 
of  silence,  and  all  my  letters  remained  unanswered. 
At  last  she  wrote  me  not  to  trouble  myself  any 
more  about  her,  as  she  was  unworthy  of  my  confi- 
dence and  affection,  and  preferred  neither  to  write 
nor  hear  from  me  again.  She  returned  the  money 
I  had  lent  her,  and  said  she  was  going  away,  and 
that  letters  would  not  be  forwarded.  She  ended 
by  saying  that,  the  sooner  I  put  her  out  of  my 
mind,  the  better  it  would  be  for  me.  I  could  not 


STRUAN  223 

do  this,  but  my  inquiries  only  resulted  in  some 
vague  rumors  of  her  ruving  been  seen  in  New 
York  under  circumstances  which  confirmed  my 
fears.  I  have  always  clung  to  the  belief,  however, 
that  I  should  see  and  talk  to  her  again.  What 
hurt  me  most  was  her  belief  that  I  would  give  her 
up  when  I  knew  what  she  had  done.  There  was 
much  good  in  her,  and  I  have  often  suffered  at  the 
thought  of  how  unendurable  she  must  find  the  life 
she  had  gone  into." 

"  Have  you  any  reason  to  suppose  that  she  has 
abandoned  that  way  of  living  ?  "  Struan  asked. 

"  Ah,  no  !      I  wish  I  had,"  said  Millicent,  sadly. 

"  But,  Millicent,"  he  said  with  a  sort  of  breath- 
less eagerness,  "  when  you  stood  talking  to  her 
and  holding  her  hands  to-day,  did  you  realize  that 
she  might  be  well  known  in  New  York,  that  you 
had  friends  present  in  whose  eyes  you  might  be 
compromising  yourself  seriously  ?  " 

"  And  do  you  think  that  for  that,  for  the  sake 
of  such  people  as  those  who  would  condemn  me 
for  that  act,  I  would  have  kept  away  from  that 
poor  woman,  with  her  unhappy  face,  whom  I 
might  perhaps  help  ?  My  one  chance  of  chang- 
ing her  is  to  treat  her  with  affection  and  respect. 
Whatever  her  life  may  be,  there  is  something  in 
her  still  which  deserves  this  from  me,—  if  not  in 


224  STRUAN 

her,  in  myself.  I  have  taken  her  address,  and  am 
going  to  see  her  to-morrow.  Perhaps  I  can  re- 
claim her.  At  least,  I  can  give  her  sympathy  and 
love.  And  so  you  thought,"  she  went  on,  look- 
ing at  him  with  a  sad  surprise,  "  that  I  would  let 
go  this  long-wished-for  chance  of  helping  her,  for 
the  sake  of  not  compromising  myself  in  the  eyes 
of  society,  some  of  the  members  of  which  are 
probably  responsible  for  her  being  what  she  is ! 
Is  it  possible  that  you,  Leonard's  father,  thought 
that  of  me  ?  " 

"  No,  not  of  you,  Millicent, —  not  of  you  !  But 
—  do  you  know  it  ?  —  absolutely  and  without  ex- 
ception of  every  other  woman  of  your  class  that  I 
have  known  !  Imagine,  then,  what  it  must  be  to 
me,  on  the  long  way  of  life,  to  have  come  to  you 
at  last.  We  have  met  late,  but  I  will  not  say  too 
late.  Half  my  working,  striving,  doing  life  is 
ahead  of  me  yet,  in  all  likelihood  ;  and  the  knowl- 
edge that  you  exist  in  the  world  will  strengthen 
me  for  it.  Thank  God,  you  have  come  to  Leon- 
ard in  full  time  !  He  will  have  no  wasted,  weak- 
ened years  to  look  back  upon,  as  I  have.  You 
will  be  my  helper,  Millicent,  in  making  that  glori- 
ous boy  the  man  I  might  have  been." 

Millicent  did  not  answer  at  once.  Presently 
she  said  : 


STRUAN  225 

"  To  help  Len  is  one  of  the  things  that  I  live 
for,  but  whether  he  has  it  in  him  to  become  the 
man  you  are  remains  to  be  seen.  I  must  say 
this  to  you,  Lucien,  to  be  honest.  Don't  think  I 
flatter  you.  You've  had  enough  flattery  to  know 
that  this  is  not.  Let  me  speak  to  you  freely  once, 
and  tell  you  that,  even  before  my  wish  to  be  of 
help  and  comfort  to  Len,  comes  the  thought  of 
you.  Until  I  saw  you,  though,  I  never  ventured 
to  hope  I  could  be  anything  to  you." 

"  You  shall  see  whether  you  can  or  not !  "  he 
said  as  they  reached  the  entrance  to  the  grounds ; 
and,  after  a  moment  of  silence  between  them,  the 
carriage  drew  up  at  the  door. 

Leonard,  who  was  watching  for  them,  ran  ea- 
gerly down  the  steps  to  help  his  dear  lady  to  alight. 
As  her  slim  foot  touched  the  ground,  he  thought 
with  envy  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  and  regretted,  as 
Millicent  had  often  caused  him  to  regret  before, 
that  the  age  of  chivalry  was  past.  He  felt,  how- 
ever, that  it  still  existed  in  the  hearts  of  men,  so 
long,  at  least,  as  Millicent  was  in  the  world. 

That  evening  the  three  friends  —  Millicent, 
Struan,  and  Leonard  —  had  a  wonderful  talk,  last- 
ing far  into  the  night.  The  old  grandmother,  who 
let  nothing  interfere  with  her  early  hours,  went  to 
bed.  Surely,  that  pretty,  quaint,  old-fashioned 


226  STRUAN 

drawing-room  had  not  often  looked  upon  such 
people  or  such  talk  as  this.  The  trio  seemed  to 
realize  that  ideal  of  friendship  which,  as  some 
writer  has  said,  "  consists  in  much  agreement, 
much  disagreement,  and  an  affection  greater  than 
either." 

They  discussed  the  points  on  which  they  dis- 
agreed, Leonard  giving  his  opinions  as  freely  as 
his  elders.  There  was  much  joy  in  finding  that 
there  were  some  subjects  they  all  agreed  upon, 
though  some  of  these  were  the  very  ones  as  to 
which  the  world  about  them  protested. 

Millicent  had  a  power  of  doing  away  with  su- 
perficial conventions  that  was  a  marvellous  help 
to  the  touching  of  minds  and  meeting  of  spirits. 
There  was  almost  no  topic  which,  treated  with 
delicacy,  was  forbidden  to  her ;  and  she  had  a  free 
and  natural  way  of  touching  upon  and  even  look- 
ing deep  into  subjects  generally  supposed  to  be, 
though  in  reality  not  beyond,  the  range  of  woman's 
conjecture  or  contemplation.  She  called  Struan 
by  his  first  name  as  simply  as  though  they  had 
been  still  childish  playmates.  She  could  not  have 
known  how  pleasing  this  was  to  him,  and  still  less 
did  it  occur  to  her  that  no  woman  dear  to  him  had 
done  it  since  his  childhood.  He  had  had  no  sis- 
ters. Leonard's  mother  had  always  addressed  him 


STRUAN  227 

as  "  Mr.  Struan  "  ;  and  with  men,  as  well  as  with 
Jenny,  the  surname  which  he  had  made  distin- 
guished was  generally  applied  to  him. 

When  the  two  men  had  said  good-night,  and 
were  having  a  few  final  words  together  in  their 
rooms,  Struan  said  : 

"  She  gives  me  a  certain  feeling  which  I  have 
had  from  but  one  source  in  my  life  before.  I 
had  it  first  when  gazing  at  the  thrilling,  uplifting 
figure  of  the  Winged  Victory  in  the  Louvre,  a 
great  woman-creature  striding  forward,  invincibly, 
through  the  trammels  and  barriers  of  life,  opening 
a  way  for  poor  humanity  to  walk  in,  while  all  the 
time  her  splendid  wings  are  spread  as  if  to  lift  her 
to  her  natural  sphere,  a  higher  element  which  the 
resting  of  her  feet  on  earth  makes  possible  for 
other  beings  to  attain  to  also." 

"  Ah,  yes  !  Millicent  is  just  like  that,"  said 
Leonard.  "  And  there  is  a  poem  of  Matthew 
Arnold's  called  '  Urania '  that  is  her  very  self. 
Listen  : 

"  She  smiles  and  smiles,  and  will  not  sigh, 
While  we  for  hopeless  passion  die. 
Yet  she  could  love,  those  eyes  declare, 
Were  but  men  nobler  than  they  are." 

"  Beautiful  !  "  said  Struan.  "  Well,  Leonard, 
my  boy,  when  I  think  that  this  is  the  being  out  of 


228  STRUAN 

all  the  world  whom  you've  chosen  for  your  friend, 
I  honor  you  ;  and,  when  I  see  that  you  have  won 
her  affection  and  friendship,  I  honor  you  more. 
Life  seems  the  better  because  she  lives,  and  hu- 
manity the  higher  because  she  is  human.  Good- 
night, my  son  j  and  God  bless  you  and  her." 


XVIII 

IT  was  an  exceptionally  busy  time  with 
Struan ;  and,  on  reaching  his  office  next 
morning,  he  plunged  into  hard  work. 
This  work  was  of  so  absorbing  a  nature  that  it 
occupied  every  faculty  of  mind  and  body. 

Leonard  had  accepted  an  invitation  to  spend 
several  days  with  Mrs.  Milner,  so  in  the  late 
afternoon  Struan  took  the  train  for  home  alone. 

It  was  only  when  he  was  whirling  along,  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  moving  landscape  outside,  that  he 
could  deliberately  give  himself  up  to  the  thought 
aroused  in  him  by  this  meeting  with  Millicent. 

Truly,  these  thoughts  were  inspiring  ones.  In 
spite  of  all  it  was  a  delight  to  live.  The  relations 
of  men  and  women  seemed  to  him  ennobled  and 
beautified  inexpressibly  by  his  knowledge  and  rec- 
ognition of  Millicent.  The  opportunities  of  life 
seemed  magnificent.  He  was  glad  to  be  part  of  a 
system  which  included  such  possibilities. 

He  thought,  with  a  great  tenderness,  of  Jenny, 
but  he  no  longer  deceived  himself.  He  was  not 
angry  or  even  discontented  with  her.  He  recog- 
nized the  fact  that  one  must  not  expect  to  get  out 
229 


23o  STRUAN 

of  people  what  is  not  in  them,  and  he  had  only 
himself  to  blame. 

His  own  life  —  it  was  best  to  face  the  fact 
squarely  —  had  been  permanently  crippled  and  sad- 
dened by  his  own  act  twice  committed.  What  a 
coward  he  had  been,  what  a  weakling,  not  to  wait 
for  the  best,  the  complete  !  And  what  patience 
and  courage  had  Millicent  shown  !  What  a  power 
of  renunciation  and  power  of  hope  at  once  ! 

He  knew  that  it  had  cost  Millicent  something 
to  forego  the  temporary  consolation  which  would 
have  come  from  a  compromise  in  love.  He  hon- 
ored her  deeply  for  the  clear  vision  that  had  en- 
abled her  to  keep  her  mind  fixed  on  the  end. 
That  vision  must  have  warned  her,  as  it  had 
many  a  time  warned  him,  that  misery  must  be  the 
result  of  compromise.  She  had  been  strong  enough 
to  put  down  the  demands  of  soul  and  sense  as 
enemies  that  must  be  crushed,  but  he  had  not. 
He  had  let  them  master  him,  and  had  accepted 
miserably  less  than  he  had  dreamed.  The  self- 
abasement  which  he  suffered  now  seemed  to  him 
only  a  reasonable  punishment.  He  had  caught 
sight  over  an  impregnable  wall  of  a  garden  of  de- 
light into  which  he  might  not  enter, —  no,  not  so 
much  as  to  set  his  foot  upon  it ;  and  the  one 
worthy  impulse  which  his  heart  felt  now  was  to 
live  faithfully  the  half-life  which  remained  to  him. 


STRUAN 

Prompted  by  an  impulse  of  renewed  affection 
and  kindness  for  Jenny,  he  had  stopped  on  his 
way  to  the  train,  and  bought  her  a  dainty  jewelled 
comb  for  her  hair.  For  some  reason,  all  his  dem- 
onstrations of  fondness  for  Jenny  now  took  the 
form  of  presents,  probably  because  it  was  in  this 
way  that  he  was  surest  of  pleasing  her. 

When  he  reached  the  house,  full  of  his  re- 
vitalized purpose  to  be  good  and  loving  to  Jenny, 
he  found  her  bending  over  the  table,  writing  a  let- 
ter. She  looked  up  at  his  entrance,  and  said  ani- 
matedly : 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you've  come  !  I'm  writing 
this  because  I  felt  so  impatient ;  but,  of  course,  I 
meant  to  consult  you  before  feeling  that  the  mat- 
ter was  decided." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  Struan,  taking  her  upturned 
chin  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  and  looking  down 
at  her  with  a  grave  kindness  that  had  something 
inscrutable  in  it,  which  she  was  too  self-absorbed 
to  notice.  Endearments  and  caresses  were  some- 
what rare  between  them  now,  and  the  approaches 
always  came  from  Struan's  side ;  for  one  of  the 
surprises  of  his  marriage  was  that  Jenny  was  un- 
affectionate,  in  spite  of  all  her  fiery  feeling. 

"  Why,  of  course,"  began  Jenny,  a  little  con- 
fusedly, "  it's  pretty  sudden,  and  all  that ;  but  it's 


232  STRUAN 

such  a  splendid  chance  to  go  with  Ida.  She's  go- 
ing West  to  visit  some  relatives  ;  and,  as  I  haven't 
seen  them  all  at  home  for  so  long,  I  thought  — 
O  Struan,  I  do  hope  you'll  be  willing  for  me  to 
go  with  her  !  " 

She  spoke  with  an  eagerness  which  made  him 
think  with  compunction  of  her  loneliness,  so  he 
said  at  once  : 

"  Of  course  there's  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't 
go  if  you  want  to.  You  must  need  a  change,  poor 
little  dear  !  How  soon  should  you  want  to  leave  ? 
Directly  after  the  musical  festival  ?  " 

Jenny  looked  a  little  disconcerted. 

"  Why,  as  soon  as  I  could,"  she  said.  "  The 
fact  is,  if  I  am  going  to  take  advantage  of  this 
splendid  chance  to  go  with  Ida,  I  should  have  to 
go  before  the  festival ;  for  Ida  can't  wait  a  day 
later  than  Thursday.  I'd  like  to  hear  the  festi- 
val, of  course,  and  see  what  success  you  have  ;  but, 
really,  it's  so  certain  to  succeed  that  I  wouldn't  be 
bothered  at  all  as  to  that,  and  you  know  the  music 
is  too  classical  for  me.  I'd  have  to  do  a  lot  of 
pretending  to  make  believe  I  enjoyed  it.  If  you 
really  wouldn't  mind,  I'd  like  to  start  with  Ida  on 
Thursday.  I  thought  about  begging  her  to  wait 
for  me  till  after  the  festival,  but  it  would  put  her 
out  too  much.  We  have  been  talking  it  over  this 


STRUAN  233 

afternoon,  and  I  was  only  waiting  to  see  what  you 
would  say.  I  promised  to  run  over  and  tell  her 
what  we  decided." 

"  Oh,  tell  her  you'll  go,  by  all  means,"  said 
Struan.  "As  you  say,  the  festival's  all  right;  and 
you  needn't  bother  about  that.  I  don't  see  the 
least  reason  why  you  should  not  go  on  Thursday 
if  you  want  to.  You  might  run  across  now,  and 
tell  Ida.  I  know  you  are  both  eager  to  have  it 
settled.  Here's  something  pretty  for  you  to  take 
with  you  to  show  her." 

He  took  the  little  pink  satin  box  from  his 
pocket,  and  gave  it  to  her.  She  opened  it  with 
eagerness  ;  and,  when  she  saw  the  jewelled  comb, 
she  gave  him  a  rough  little  hug,  and  said  he  was 
a  perfect  old  dear.  Then  she  darted  through  the 
low  window,  and  down  the  gravelled  walk,  run- 
ning like  a  child. 

Struan  stood  and  watched  her.  Ida  was  on  her 
porch  ;  and,  as  soon  as  Jenny  caught  sight  of  her 
there,  she  waved  her  little  handkerchief  high  above 
her  head  in  triumphant  glee. 

He  felt  bitter  in  his  heart.  He  was  not  only 
willing,  but  determined  to  sacrifice  his  future  to 
this  childish  creature ;  but  there  was  something  in 
it  all  that  made  the  sacrifice  seem  useless.  He 
told  himself  that  it  was  only  natural  that  she 


234  STRUAN 

should  wish  to  go  to  her  old  home,  and  to  have 
a  little  variety  in  her  dull  life.  Yet,  natural  as  it 
was,  it  hurt  him  to  see  her  eagerness  to  leave  him, 
her  lack  of  interest  in  his  festival,  and  her  frank 
distaste  of  the  music  which  was  almost  a  religion 
with  him.  He  felt  a  deep  apprehension  that  the 
difference  in  their  tastes,  as  well  as  their  ages, 
would  constitute  a  barrier  which  time  would  only 
widen.  Jenny's  interests  and  mental  pursuits  were 
the  toys  of  his  childhood.  It  was  not  to  be  won- 
dered at  if  his  seemed  to  her  the  dull  resources  of 
age.  A  mood  of  deep  sadness  oppressed  him,  the 
heaviest  part  of  it  being  his  fear  that  he  should  not 
be  able  to  make  Jenny  happy.  If  this  should  be 
so,  what  compensation  was  there  for  the  sacrifices 
of  his  life  ?  What  atonement  could  he  make  for 
the  wrongs  done  to  himself  and  to  others  ? 

How  suddenly  things  had  changed  for  him  ! 
Last  night  he  had  felt,  in  body  and  in  mind,  a 
youthfulness  and  vigor  stronger  than  any  feeling 
of  his  early  years.  To-night  he  felt  crippled,  sad- 
dened, old.  It  was  the  effect  of  being  with  Milli- 
cent,  in  one  instance,  and  being  with  Jenny  in  the 
other.  He  did  not  say  it  or  think  it,  but  so  it 
was. 

When  the  moment  of  parting  with  Jenny  came, 
Struan  found  himself  profoundly  moved.  To  ful- 


STRUAN  235 

fil  to  the  letter  every  detail  of  his  obligation  to  his 
young  wife  was  now  the  strongest  demand  which 
he  felt  upon  his  life. 

This  man's  need  of  affection  was  so  great  that, 
had  Jenny  given  it  to  him  abundantly  and  freely, 
it  would  have  gone  far  toward  compensating  for 
her  failure  in  other  ways.  But  Jenny  was  not  by 
nature  either  tender  or  affectionate.  She  was  ar- 
dent, passionate,  strong,  and  brave ;  but  she  had 
little  in  her  composition  of  what  is  called  the 
womanly.  Struan,  on  the  contrary,  had  much  of 
it  in  his. 

Up  to  the  very  last  moment  she  was  bustling 
about  her  preparations,  and  dividing  her  attentions 
equally  between  a  lunch-basket  filled  with  dainty 
food  and  a  dressing-bag  filled  with  dainty  imple- 
ments. The  last  had  been  a  present  from  Struan, 
and  the  sight  of  it  had  moved  her  more  than  his 
parting  kiss. 

Never  had  Struan  felt  the  void  in  his  life  greater 
than  when  Jenny  left  him  alone,  but  never  had  he 
felt  more  determined  to  do  faithfully  the  work 
which  his  impaired  powers  left  still  possible  to 
him.  Many  a  man  before  him,  he  told  himself, 
having  lost  his  right  arm,  had  trained  and  devel- 
oped the  left  one  to  do  the  work  of  two.  So 
strong  was  he  in  the  conviction  that  it  is  not  good 


236  STRUAN 

for  man  to  live  alone  that  he  believed  it  not  pos- 
sible for  man  so  living  to  be  man  complete.  And 
to  him  the  loneliness  that  came  from  lack  of  sym- 
pathy in  mind  and  soul  was  far  deeper  than  mere 
bodily  loneliness. 

When  it  became  known  that  Jenny  had  gone 
West  to  visit  her  relatives,  Mrs.  Milner  insisted 
that  Struan  should  join  the  party  at  her  house. 
Her  invitations  to  Jenny  had  always  been  declined. 
So  the  day  before  the  beginning  of  the  musical 
festival,  Struan  established  himself  at  the  sweet 
old  country  place,  Millicent  and  Leonard  being 
the  only  other  guests. 


XIX 

IT  was  a  noble  band  of  music-makers  which 
Struan's  labors  had  got  together  for  the  fes- 
tival j  and  at  the  opening  performance  the 
great  music  hall,  so  associated  with  his  early  ac- 
quaintance with  Jenny,  was  filled  by  an  apprecia- 
tive audience. 

A  special  box  had  been  set  apart  for  Millicent 
and  Leonard  ;  and,  as  Struan  came  out  and  took  his 
place  on  the  director's  stand,  he  glanced  toward  it. 
The  glance  was  grave  and  swift,  for  he  was  neces- 
sarily preoccupied  by  the  importance  and  respon- 
sibility of  the  moment ;  but  it  was  enough  to 
stimulate  his  spirit  and  fortify  his  heart. 

As  for  Millicent  and  Leonard,  their  pulses 
leaped.  They  were  in  absolute  sympathy  at  this 
moment ;  and  to  be  seated  there  together,  feeling, 
in  company  with  the  thousands  around  them,  the 
thrill  of  a  vast  and  deep  emotion  of  pleasure 
which  had  its  source  in  the  being  so  dear  to  them, 
was  an  almost  perfect  joy. 

As  Struan's  arm  swayed  gently,  and  by  move- 
ments of  his  head  and  eyes  he  controlled  that 
mighty  rush  of  sound, —  violins,  bass-viols,  drums, 

237 


238  STRUAN 

organ,  and  a  score  more  of  instruments, —  all 
sounding  or  silent  at  his  bidding,  he  seemed  the 
life  at  the  centre  of  that  great  harmony ;  and  each 
of  these  three  beings  —  Millicent,  Leonard,  and 
Struan  —  felt  themselves  one  of  a  threefold  cord, 
not  to  be  easily  broken. 

Far  from  feeling  apart  from  Struan,  as  poor 
little  Jenny  had  done,  Millicent  and  Leonard  had 
a  feeling  of  intimate  nearness  to  him,  a  certainty 
of  kinship  which  made  them  feel  apart  from  the 
great  audience,  because  they  were  one  with  him. 

When  the  morning  performance  was  over,  and 
Struan,  in  the  midst  of  a  tumult  of  enthusiasm 
from  the  audience,  came  to  the  box  to  fetch  his 
son  and  his  cousin,  they  were  three  very  happy 
beings,  although  each  was  conscious  that  the  vig- 
orous root  of  joy  in  their  hearts  was  planted  in 
pain.  But  perhaps,  for  that  very  reason,  the  pres- 
ent hour  was  the  sweeter. 

All  the  way  through  the  lobbies,  down  the 
steps,  and  even  as  they  drove  along  Fifth  Avenue 
in  their  open  carriage,  people  at  right  and  left 
were  waving,  bowing,  and  smiling  their  greetings 
to  Struan  in  ardent  tribute  to  his  now  certain 
success. 

And  Struan,  with  Millicent  at  his  side  and 
Leonard  opposite,  looked,  as  he  was,  a  glowing, 


STRUAN  239 

genial,  happy-hearted  man,  with  the  very  fire  of 
inspiration  in  his  face. 

Long  ago  these  three  friends  and  comrades  had 
made  their  plans  for  the  spending  of  this  day. 
They  agreed,  before  the  receipt  of  the  invitations 
from  friends  which  afterward  came,  that  they 
would  each  bind  themselves  by  a  positive  engage- 
ment with  the  other  two  to  lunch  together  at 
Delmonico's. 

They  were  a  noticeable  trio  as  they  entered  and 
took  their  places  at  the  small  table  which  Struan 
had  reserved.  Any  one  of  the  three  would  have 
attracted  attention,  and  rewarded  it.  Struan,  ex- 
hilarated by  his  recent  triumph  and  his  present 
companionship,  was  looking  nobly  impressive  as 
he  bowed  here  and  there  to  acquaintances  in  the 
crowd,  through  which  a  little  murmur  of  excite- 
ment had  passed  when  the  hero  of  the  hour  was 
recognized.  Then  came  Millicent,  distinguished 
and  beautiful,  in  the  smartest  of  her  French  spring 
toilets,  making  no  effort  to  disguise,  by  a  conven- 
tional composure,  the  expression  of  the  ardor  in 
her  heart.  Then  followed  Leonard,  tall,  straight- 
limbed,  clear-featured,  his  face  ruddy,  his  eyes 
sparkling  with  the  physical  and  spiritual  well-being 
of  youthful  impulsiveness  and  strength. 

When    they    reached    the    table    to   which    the 


24o  STRUAN 

waiter  conducted  them,  paying  Struan  compli- 
ments in  felicitous  French  as  he  went  along,  they 
found  it  profusely  decorated  with  roses.  Struan 
said  there  must  be  some  mistake ;  but  the  man 
protested,  with  more  compliments,  that  they  had 
been  sent  by  some  unknown  friends  who  had 
learned  that  he  was  to  take  his  luncheon  there. 

Struan  was  not  a  man  to  resent  as  familiarity 
an  expression  of  good  will  from  any  being  alive, 
and  so  he  responded  cordially  to  the  man's  felicita- 
tions as  the  party  took  their  seats.  He  placed 
himself  opposite  Millicent,  who  had  quietly  taken 
note  of  the  fact  that  every  man  and  woman  in  the 
room,  with  a  greater  or  less  indifference  to  appear- 
ances, was  trying  to  get  sight  of  their  party. 
Struan,  looking  at  her  with  his  smile,  which,  when 
free  from  care,  had  a  peculiar  radiance  in  it,  said 
in  a  low  tone : 

"  I  see  one  or  two  dear  old  fellows  who  are 
longing  to  come  and  shake  my  hand,  but  are 
intimidated  by  the  sight  of  you.  Would  you 
mind  it  ?  Would  you  let  me  introduce  them  to 
you,  or  are  you  afraid  of  its  making  you  con- 
spicuous ?  They  are  all  more  or  less  Bohemians, 
ind  somewhat  unaccountable  in  their  talk,  espe- 
cially when  their  souls  are  full  of  music ;  but 
they're—" 


STRUAN  241 

"  Oh,  don't  make  excuses  for  your  friends  to 
me,"  said  Millicent.  "  The  sooner  you  find  out 
how  unconventional  I  am,  the  better.  You  don't 
dream  of  the  lengths  of  it  yet.  I  feel  almost  irre- 
sistibly impelled  to  wring  the  hand  of  that  dear 
waiter  who  said  such  pretty  things  to  you,  and  to 
scatter  handfuls  of  rose-leaves  over  him." 

A  moment  later  a  tall,  stoop-shouldered  old 
man,  with  scraggy  features,  bald  head,  and  pierc- 
ingly brilliant  eyes,  came  over  to  them  in  response 
to  a  nod  of  encouragement  from  Struan,  and,  as 
the  latter  rose  to  meet  him,  threw  his  arms  in 
foreign  fashion  round  him,  and  gave  him  a  cordial 
hug,  at  the  same  time  pouring  out  enthusiastic 
congratulations  in  a  French  which  had  a  foreign 
accent. 

Millicent  recognized  this  accent ;  and,  when 
Struan  introduced  the  old  man  to  Leonard  and 
herself,  she  addressed  him  cordially  in  Italian. 
How  his  face  glowed  !  With  delighted  hurry  he 
began  to  talk  to  her,  while  Struan  turned  to  wel- 
come some  one  else. 

In  this  way  ten  or  fifteen  strangers  were  intro- 
duced to  Millicent ;  and,  by  twos  and  threes,  they 
lingered  to  talk.  Certainly,  this  elegant  woman, 
with  her  grande  dame  appearance  and  delicate 
purity  of  accent,  showed  herself  as  easy  and  com- 


242  STRUAN 

panionable  to  this  set  of  artists,  actors,  musicians, 
as  she  had  ever  been  in  her  life.  Struan  was 
astonished  and  greatly  delighted.  Her  freedom 
from  false  scruples  was  a  bewitching  trait  in  her, 
which  he  saw  now  for  the  first  time.  He  remem- 
bered how  his  first  wife  had  declined  to  know 
these  professional  friends  of  his,  and  how  cold  and 
stiff  her  manner  had  always  been,  if  forced  into 
even  the  most  casual  contact  with  them.  Jenny,  it 
is  true,  was  different ;  but,  then,  poor  little  Jenny, — 
how  out  of  her  sphere  she  would  have  felt  herself 
with  Millicent !  The  certainty  of  that  fact  had 
caused  him  to  humor  her  in  her  disinclination  to 
meet  Millicent. 

When  their  friends  had  considerately  left  them 
to  eat  their  lunch,  Millicent,  drawing  the  long 
gloves  off  her  firmly  moulded  hands,  said  gayly  : 

"  All  things  have  their  compensations,  have 
they  not  ?  When  I  think  that  I  have  passed  the 
time  that  I  need  to  be  protected  by  a  chaperon,  it 
makes  up  for  many  of  the  frivolous  delights  of 
youth.  How  a  severe  and  proper  elderly  lady 
would  be  in  our  way  to-day  !  I  don't  want  to 
discourage  Len ;  but  I  think,  on  the  whole,  I 
prefer  the  advantages  of  maturity  and  advancing 
life  to  those  of  youth.  You  needn't  mind  it,  Len, 
however ;  for  you  have  our  pleasures  to  look  for- 


STRUAN  243 

ward  to,  while  we,  alas  !  have  yours  to  look  back 
upon." 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Struan,  looking  across 
the  table  at  her  over  the  glass  of  wine  which  he 
was  sipping  with  enjoyment,  "  I  can't  get  over  the 
wonder  and  delight  of  finding  you  so  unconven- 
tional as  you  are." 

u  I  told  you,  Father  !  "  Len  exclaimed,  half  re- 
proachfully, as  if  it  might  be  thought  that  he  had 
been  remiss. 

"  But  I  really  failed  to  take  it  in.  What  a  com- 
panion it  makes  you,  Millicent !  What  a  power 
of  sympathy  it  gives  !  " 

"  There  are  two  kinds  of  unconventionally," 
said  Millicent,  smiling.  "  I  think  the  choice  as  to 
that  is  something  like  the  choice  between  good 
and  evil, —  one  must  know  both,  in  order  to  make 
one's  choice  of  one  and  rejection  of  the  other  of 
any  avail.  So  I  think  it  is  well  to  know  both 
conventionality  and  unconventionality,  and  it  is 
the  knowledge  of  both  and  the  choice  of  the  latter 
which  I  like.  We  can  all  recall  instances  of 
people  who,  having  no  knowledge  of  the  conven- 
tional, riot  in  a  freedom  from  restraint  which 
makes  them  the  most  obnoxious  of  mortals." 

They  talked  on,  going  lightly  from  one  topic  to 
another,  until  the  pleasant  meal  was  ended.  It 


244  STRUAN 

was  a  delightful  hour  to  them  all.  The  sense  of 
companionship  was  one  source  of  their  pleasure, 
the  success  of  the  festival  was  another.  The  good 
music  had  exhilarated  their  souls  as  the  good  food 
and  wine  had  their  bodies,  and  to  Millicent  and 
Leonard  at  least  there  was  a  delicious  stimulus  in 
the  knowledge  of  the  admiring  eyes  and  enthu- 
siastic comments  which  they  knew  to  be  tributes 
to  their  companion  rather  than  to  themselves. 
And  to  Struan,  also,  every  sign  of  cordiality  of 
feeling  was  precious. 

As  they  took  their  way  out  of  the  crowded 
restaurant,  the  pleasure  of  the  present  was  so 
predominating  that  each  of  the  three  had  put 
away,  for  the  time,  every  trouble  they  had  in  the 
world. 


XX 

THE  musical  festival  went  on  to  a  trium- 
phant close,  and  ended  a  success  in  every 
sense  for  Struan.  He  was  a  good  deal 
overworked  ;  and  he  was  now  to  take  a  week's 
complete  holiday,  which  he  was  to  spend  in  the 
country,  at  Mrs.  Milner's,  where  Milicent  was  to 
do  his  portrait. 

Poor  Leonard,  for  his  part,  was  forced  to  tear 
himself  away.  He  was  under  an  engagement  to 
go  to  see  his  mother's  sister,  the  aunt  who  had 
done  what  she  could  to  take  a  mother's  place  to 
him  in  his  childhood.  Millicent  knew  this  visit 
was  a  trial  to  Len.  He  did  not  pretend  to  any- 
thing beyond  the  affection  of  gratitude  to  this 
aunt,  but  to  that  he  felt  bound  to  be  loyal. 

Millicent  and  Leonard  were  standing  together 
in  Mrs.  Milner's  drawing-room,  saying  good-by 
before  their  brief  separation.  She  had  been  look- 
ing at  him  so  fixedly  for  a  moment  that  he  asked 
what  she  was  thinking  of. 

"  I  was  thinking  that  my  knight  is  very  true 
and  strong,"  she  said,  "  and  that,  if  he  likes,  he 

245 


246  STRUAN 

may  kiss  his  lady's  hand  before  he  goes  forth  to 
this  noble  deed." 

"Ah,  Millicent !  "  he  cried,  tumbling  down  on 
his  knees  before  her,  and  covering  both  her  hands 
with  kisses,  in  a  sudden  rapture  of  emotion. 
"  You  must  live  to  see  me  do  something  really 
worthy.  I  long  to  have  you  set  me  some  great 
task,  that  I  may  start  out,  if  it  took  years  of  my 
life,  and  do  it." 

Millicent  bent  for  just  a  second,  and  brushed  his 
curls  lightly  with  her  lips.  Then,  using  all  the 
force  of  her  strong  wrists,  she  pulled  him  rather 
suddenly  to  his  feet.  From  the  time  that  she 
had  first  made  acquaintance  with  this  ardent  boy, 
and  realized  the  rare  sympathy  between  her  nature 
and  his,  she  had  kept  her  finger  on  the  pulse  of 
his  emotions,  and  had  never  failed  to  give  them 
a  sudden  check  when  she  saw  that  there  was  dan- 
ger of  his  crossing  the  limit  which  she  had  set  for 
their  relations  to  each  other. 

The  next  morning  the  sittings  for  the  portrait 
began.  Millicent,  who  had  few  resources  in  her 
present  life,  had  amused  herself  by  fitting  up  an 
impromptu  studio  in  the  top  of  the  house.  Here 
she  worked  for  a  part  of  every  day.  Of  course 
there  were  visits  to  be  made  and  invitations  to  be 
accepted ;  but  she  had  very  little  inclination  to  go 


STRUAN  247 

into  society,  and  was  not  sorry  that  the  coming 
of  spring  had  made  social  demands  upon  her  com- 
paratively slight. 

It  was  a  pretty,  quaint  old  room  that  she  had 
transformed  into  an  atelier ;  and,  besides  all  her 
paints  and  canvases  and  artist's  properties,  there 
were  numberless  pretty  Eastern  stuffs  scattered 
about,  and  even  some  of  Millicent's  gayly  colored 
opera  cloaks  and  gowns.  On  a  table  a  great 
collection  of  photographs  were  heaped,  together 
with  foreign  and  American  novels,  magazines, 
and  papers.  There  was  a  comfortable  old  lounge, 
and  some  pleasant,  restful  chairs  ;  and  altogether, 
the  room  had  a  look  of  unusual  grace  and  com- 
fort. 

"  What  a  charming  place  !  "  said  Struan,  glan- 
cing about  him.  "  I've  sat  for  my  portrait  several 
times  before,  but  it's  the  first  time  that  I  ever 
looked  forward  to  the  ordeal  with  pleasure." 

The  emotion  he  spoke  of  was  written  very 
plainly  on  his  face,  and  Millicent's  reflected  it. 
She  was  moving  about  with  quick  and  animated 
motions,  and  showed  by  every  sign  her  interest 
in  the  work  that  she  had  undertaken. 

"  My  fingers  tingle  to  begin,"  she  said.  "  You 
shall  make  yourself  perfectly  comfy,  and  take  as 
easy  a  position  as  you  choose.  I  am  a  beautiful 


248  STRUAN 

painter  to  sit  to.  Every  one  says  I  am.  I'll  let 
you  talk  as  much  as  you  like." 

She  ran  to  a  peg  on  the  wall,  and  took  down  a 
large  linen  apron,  streaked  and  splashed  with  paint. 
This  she  slipped  on  over  her  little  morning  gown, 
reaching  her  arms  upward  to  button  it  at  the  back 
of  her  neck.  It  was  wonderfully  transforming, 
and  gave  her  a  look  of  childishness  very  unlike 
her  usual  self.  Then,  with  movements  full  of 
energy,  she  came  back  to  the  table  in  the  centre 
of  the  room,  took  up  her  palette,  and  poured  over 
it  a  thick  liquid  from  a  small  bottle. 

"  I  must  take  every  precaution  to  have  my 
colors  clean,"  she  said,  her  utterance  obstructed 
by  the  fact  that  she  held  the  cork  she  had  taken 
from  the  bottle  between  her  teeth.  "  This  palette 
is  supposed  to  have  been  cleaned  already,  but  I 
can't  trust  any  one  for  that  except  myself." 

Struan  came  quickly  and  offered  to  help  her, 
protesting  about  the  cork. 

"  Oh,  I  love  it,"  she  said,  as  she  screwed  it  back 
into  the  bottle  with  a  twist  of  her  strong  teeth. 
"  It's  my  favorite  perfume."  She  had  taken  up 
a  rag,  and  was  rubbing  away  with  a  will  at  the 
many-tinted  surface  of  the  palette.  "  Now,"  she 
said  with  satisfaction,  "  I  must  lay  my  colors 
before  I  begin  to  draw,  for  I  get  so  impatient  to 


STRUAN  249 

get  on.  Oh,  this  is  delicious  !  "  she  exclaimed  de- 
lightedly. "  I'm  very  happy,  do  you  know  ?  " 

She  was  not  looking  at  him  as  she  spoke,  but  at 
the  little  stream  of  color  which  she  was  squeezing 
out  of  a  tube  on  to  the  palette.  As  she  deposited 
each  gay  little  dab,  and  twisted  the  caps  back, 
throwing  one  tube  after  another  into  her  color- 
box,  Struan  thought  he  had  never  seen  a  more 
absorbed  face.  It  was  like  the  absorption  of  a 
child  before  the  time  of  self-consciousness  has  set 
in.  It  was  very  evident  that  the  work  in  hand 
had  driven  away  the  thoughts  of  all  else  from  her 
mind. 

At  last  the  palette  was  set,  and  then  came  the 
choosing  of  the  brushes.  Her  concentration  on 
this  act  was  intense  also.  She  picked  up  and 
threw  down  brush  after  brush,  testing  them  with 
the  tip  of  her  finger  to  see  if  they  were  pliable  and 
free  from  paint,  then  holding  them  up  with  a 
scrutinizing  frown  to  see  if  the  hairs  were  bent 
or  displaced  in  any  way.  When  she  had  selected 
a  little  bunch,  she  thrust  it  through  the  hole  in  her 
palette,  and  laid  the  latter  gently  and  carefully  on 
the  table. 

Then  came  the  choosing  of  her  canvas,  which 
involved  a  great  deal  of  sighting  above  and  below 
the  level  of  her  hand,  held  steadily  between  herself 


250  STRUAN 

and  her  subject,  at  whom  she  gazed  and  squinted, 
with  her  head  now  on  this  side,  now  on  that,  with 
no  more  apparent  consciousness  of  his  humanity 
than  if  they  had  both  been  machines. 

Next  she  got  her  charcoal,  and  had  sharpened 
two  or  three  bits  to  her  liking,  when  she  discovered 
that  she  had  no  stale  bread. 

"  Ah  !  I  do  think  that's  hard  of  Bridget,"  she 
said,  with  a  positively  pathetic  reproach.  "  She 
knows  I  can't  draw  without  the  bread,  and 
she  forgets  it  every  time." 

Picking  up  a  tin  can  that  had  held  turpentine, 
she  went  to  the  open  door,  and  began  to  beat 
noisily  on  the  can  with  her  palette-knife. 

"  That's  my  impromptu  for  a  gong,"  she  ex- 
plained as  she  returned.  "  It  has  far  more  effect 
on  Bridget  than  the  tinkle  of  a  silver  bell.  Here 
she  comes  !  " 

The  Irish  housemaid  now  appeared  on  the 
scene,  panting  with  haste. 

"  What  is  it,  Miss  Millicent  ?  "  she  said. 

"  What  is  it,  Bridget  ?  What  is  it  ?  Why,  it's 
bread,  Bridget.  That's  what  it  is,  and  that's  what 
it  happens  to  be  pretty  much  every  day.  Now, 
Bridget,  hear  my  words.  The  next  time  I  begin 
work  here,  and  don't  find  any  bread,  I'm  going  to 
scourge  you, —  do  you  understand  ?  " 


STRUAN  251 

Bridget  vanished  with  an  expression  that  was 
a  compromise  between  a  grin  of  amusement  and  a 
frown  of  protest,  Millicent  looking  after  her  with 
a  smile. 

"  She'd  break  her  neck  to  wait  on  me,"  she 
said,  "  and  she  tells  me  all  her  secrets.  Would 
you  believe  they're  very  interesting  ?  But  I'm 
afraid  my  use  of  the  word  c  scourge  '  has  shocked 
her.  I  am  perfectly  sure  it  would  Bonnemaman 
and  that  she'd  rebuke  me  for  irreverence." 

Here  Bridget  returned  with  a  large  loaf  of 
bread. 

"  Nice,  good  Bridget,"  said  Millicent,  indul- 
gently. "  She's  brought  me  enough  to  sustain  me 
through  a  famine  ;  and  she  shan't  be  scourged  a  bit, 
so  she  shan't."  And  she  gave  the  broad-faced 
creature  a  pat  on  her  freckled  face  that  sent  her 
away  beaming. 

"  How  human  you  are  !  "  said  Struan,  fervently, 
as  he  watched  her  tearing  apart  her  loaf  of  bread. 

"  I  hope  so,  at  all  events,"  she  answered.  "  I 
think  the  way  most  people  treat  their  servants 
pretty  much  leaves  the  element  of  humanity  out. 
Mine  are  always  more  or  less  my  friends,  and  I've 
never  had  one  of  them  to  presume  upon  it.  Eh 
bien  !  Posez,  monsieur  !  "  she  exclaimed,  becom- 
ing quickly  absorbed  in  her  work,  as  she  took  up 


252  STRUAN 

her  bit  of  charcoal  and  squinted  up  her  eyes  to 
begin. 

"  Comme  ca  —  ne  bougez  pas,"  she  said  de- 
lightedly, falling  naturally  into  the  jargon  of  the 
French  ateliers,  which  had  once  been  familiar  to 
him,  also. 

She  sketched  rapidly  with  sudden  bold  strokes 
and  quirks,  frequent  use  of  the  crumbled  bread  as 
an  eraser,  and  now  and  then  a  little  shading,  to 
which  she  bent  lovingly. 

After  an  hour's  close  application  the  drawing 
was  done,  and  she  let  him  come  and  look  at  it 
before  she  fixed  the  outline  with  her  fine  hair 
pencil  dipped  in  red  ink. 

Then,  cutting  short  his  really  astonished  words 
of  praise,  she  flipped  off  the  shading  and  the  un- 
necessary details,  dusting  away  with  quick  flour- 
ishes of  her  linen  rag,  and  leaving  at  last  only 
the  red  outline  on  the  canvas. 

Then,  with  a  long-drawn,  delighted  "  Ah  !  "  she 
took  up  her  palette;  and,  with  a  second's  con- 
sciousness of  his  existence  as  man  independent  of 
model,  she  gave  him  a  brilliant  though  hurried 
smile,  and  promptly  forgot  all  about  him  except 
that  he  had  a  head  and  shoulders. 

It  was  delicious  to  Struan  to  watch  her  mixing 
her  colors.  She  would  mix  and  dab  and  slap  with 


STRUAN  253 

the  flat  brush  on  the  smooth  wooden  surface, 
turning  her  head  and  squinting  her  eyes,  making 
a  little  pick  at  a  new  color  and  rubbing  that  in, 
and  then  contemplating  the  result  with  intense 
interest. 

At  last,  with  a  deep  indrawn  breath  and  a  flour- 
ish of  her  arm  in  the  air,  she  began  to  lay  her 
color.  She  was  firmly  planted  before  her  easel ; 
and  Struan,  who  had  no  absorbing  work  to  pre- 
occupy him,  admired  the  fine  pose  of  her  strong 
figure,  with  the  head  flung  back  and  one  foot 
advanced. 

The  painting  went  forward  in  silence.  All  the 
time  that  she  was  making  that  intent  study  of  her 
model,  he,  in  turn,  was  making  as  keenly  inter- 
ested a  study  of  her,  as  conscious  as  hers  was  un- 
conscious. He  possessed  a  rare  power  of  keeping 
absolutely  still,  and  posing  in  this  easy  attitude 
was  no  effort  to  him.  Indeed,  in  any  circum- 
stances he  would  have  felt  inclined  to  bodily  still- 
ness, while  his  intense  activity  of  mind  went  on, 
with  the  object  of  it  just  in  front  of  him.  It 
added  to  his  liberty  of  gaze  and  thought  that  she 
was  so  evidently  unconscious  of  him  ;  and  he  took 
long  draughts  of  pleasure  in  looking  at  her  loveli- 
ness, and  in  perceiving  with  his  mental  gaze  the 
beauties  of  mind  and  soul  which  he  believed  to  be 
its  complement. 


254  STRUAN 

If  Millicent  was  unconscious  of  him,  it  was 
plain  that  she  was  equally  so  of  herself.  She  held 
a  brush  between  her  teeth,  which  was  heavily  wet 
with  paint  and,  when  she  spoke  (apparently  into 
the  air),  the  movements  of  her  lips,  with  the 
wooden  handle  between  them,  amused  Struan  so 
much  that  he  found  it  hard  not  to  laugh.  Her 
utterance,  too,  was  odd  and  indistinct ;  but  she 
remained  serenely  unaware. 

"  It  really  looks  as  if  it  would  go,"  she  said,  her 
eyes  fixed  on  the  point  of  her  quickly  moving 
brush ;  or,  with  a  change  of  tone  :  "  I  might  have 
known  I  couldn't  do  it.  Oh,  but  that  shadow  is 
good  !  not  the  least  bit  inky  !  "  and  so  on,  expect- 
ing and  receiving  no  response  from  Struan,  who, 
possessed  by  a  sense  of  serene  content,  was  con- 
tent to  be  both  silent  and  still. 


XXI 

AT  last  she  paused.  Taking  the  brush  from 
her  mouth,  she  stuck  it  into  the  hole  in 
the  palette  with  the  other  brushes,  and 
laid  all  on  the  table. 

u  That  will  do  for  the  .  present,"  she  said. 
"  Want  to  see  ?  "  And,  taking  the  canvas  from 
the  easel,  she  set  it  on  the  floor  against  the  table, 
coming  over  beside  him  to  look  at  it  from  his  point 
of  view. 

"  It's  not  so  awfully  bad  for  a  beginning,"  she 
said,  clasping  her  hands  at  the  top  of  her  head 
with  a  stretch  of  muscular  relief,  regardless  of  the 
fact  that  this  movement  lifted  her  apron,  in  fun- 
nily awkward  folds,  up  to  her  ears.  "  When  one 
knows  enough  to  realize  how  desperately  difficult 
it  is  to  paint  a  portrait,  the  wonder  is  that  any  one 
undertakes  it.  But  how  splendid  and  patient  you 
have  been  !  You've  posed  like  an  angel.  What 
should  you  like  for  a  reward  ?  " 

She  looked  him  frankly  in  the  eyes,  and  they 
both  smiled. 

"  I'm  thinking,"  he  said  meditatively. 

"  How  does  a  cigarette  strike  you  ?  "  she  said 

255 


256  STRUAN 

promptly.  "  I've  got  some  treasures,  and  I'll  take 
one  with  you." 

Going  to  a  distant  table,  she  pulled  open  a 
drawer,  and  took  out  a  brown  paper  box,  which 
she  opened,  displaying  the  neat,  cork-tipped  rows 
within. 

While  Struan  was  selecting  one,  he  noticed 
that  her  eyes  became  riveted  upon  some  small 
object  on  the  table.  His  eyes  followed  the  direc- 
tion of  hers. 

"  'Tis  the  first  wasp  of  summer ! "  she  ex- 
claimed, bending  nearer  to  the  table  ;  u  and,  oh,  do 
look  at  it !  It's  making  its  toilet !  " 

The  insect,  all  unconscious  of  the  scrutiny  it 
was  under,  was  diligently  rubbing  together  first  its 
fore  legs  and  then  its  hind  legs,  after  which  its 
wings  were  caught  under  its  fore  legs,  and  wiped 
repeatedly  with  great  care.  Then  followed  a  per- 
formance that  drew  from  Millicent  a  whispered 
laugh  of  delight.  Having  disposed  of  the  toilet 
of  its  body,  taken  its  bath,  as  it  were,  it  now  low- 
ered its  two  long  antennae,  and  proceeded  to 
smooth  first  one  and  then  the  other,  from  the  head 
down,  with  its  fore  legs,  giving  each  of  them 
several  consecutive  strokes,  then  turning  its  little 
heart-shaped  head  far  to  one  side,  and  giving  about 
the  same  number  to  the  other. 


STRUAN  257 

"  Did  you  ever  see  anything  so  fascinating  ?  " 
exclaimed  Millicent,  in  delight.  "  Isn't  that  exactly 
like  a  woman  combing  out  her  long  hair  ?  Isn't 
it, —  absolutely?  Look  how  its  head  gives  when 
it  gets  toward  the  end  of  the  long  tress  !  Oh,  it's 
too  cunning !  I'm  sure  it's  got  a  little  brush  in  its 
hand,  only  it's  too  small  for  us  to  see." 

Struan,  delighted  and  amused,  waited  willingly 
for  her  to  watch  it  as  long  as  she  chose.  But 
presently  it  buzzed  away ;  and  then  she  got 
up,  and  reached  behind  to  unfasten  her  apron. 
Throwing  it  off,  she  stood  revealed  in  the  loose 
loveliness  of  her  little  gown  of  dull  blue  silk. 
Then,  with  a  long  sigh  of  relief,  she  threw  herself 
at  full  length  on  the  old  leather  lounge,  her  long 
body  reaching  almost  from  top  to  bottom  of  it. 
Then  she  reached  for  the  matches,  and,  lighting  a 
cigarette,  began  to  smoke. 

Struan  meanwhile  had  lighted  his ;  and,  draw- 
ing an  arm-chair  near  the  foot  of  the  sofa,  he  sat 
down  and  looked  at  her. 

As  their  eyes  met,  penetrating  the  delicate 
smoke-atmosphere,  she  smiled,  accompanying  the 
smile  with  a  little  sound  of  low  laughter  in  her 
throat.  Her  eyes  got  long  and  keen  under  their 
lowered  lids,  between  their  shadowy  lashes,  with 
that  wonderful  eloquence  of  gaze  which  Leonard 


258  STRUAN 

had  tried  to  describe.  What  Struan  read  in  that 
look  was  the  conscious  power  to  fascinate,  con- 
trolled by  the  restraint  of  a  good  woman's  con- 
science. 

Struan  was  right  in  thinking  that  Millicent  was 
aware  of  the  almost  supreme  charm  which  she  pos- 
sessed for  men,  when  she  chose  to  fascinate  them. 
At  the  present  moment  she  was  experiencing  a 
unique  delight.  She  felt  that  she  was  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  man  with  whom  she  might  let  herself 
go,  without  needing  to  look  out  for  the  conse- 
quences. Here  was  a  man  with  whom  she  felt 
that  she  could  have  the  most  intimate  communion 
of  mind  and  sentiment,  and  who,  she  felt  certain, 
was  able  to  take  the  entire  responsibility  of  the 
situation,  and  sure  to  keep  harm  out  of  it.  It  was 
something  she  had  never  known  before,  some- 
thing she  had  ceased  to  expect. 

She  was  tired  from  long  standing,  and  the  phys- 
ical repose  of  lying  on  her  back  on  this  padded 
lounge  was  delicious.  The  cigarette,  too,  was 
restful  and  soothing;  and,  as  she  let  two  little 
streams  of  smoke  escape  through  her  nostrils, 
Struan  said  suddenly : 

"  Millicent !     You're  inhaling  !  " 

"  I  know  I  am,"  she  answered,  smiling.  "  I 
love  it  j  but  don't  tell  Len,  for  I've  never  even 


STRUAN  259 

allowed  him  to  learn  how.  Why  shouldn't  I 
inhale  cigarette  smoke  if  I  want  to  ?  It's  very 
nice,  and  not  very  wicked.  I  think  it  must  be  the 
faint  and  far  suggestion  of  wickedness  that  I  like 
as  much  as  the  sedative  effect.  Besides,  I  don't 
see  why  I  shouldn't  play  at  being  naughty  a  little 
if  I  like.  I'm  ridiculously  good  in  most  things." 

Struan  smiled. 

"  You  are  good,"  he  said  ;  "  but  I  can't  say  I  see 
anything  ridiculous  in  it." 

"  You  would,  I  fancy,  if  you  knew  my  life 
abroad.  I'm  in  the  midst  of  the  most  dangerous 
sort  of  fast  living, —  decent,  conventional,  and 
thoroughly  good  form.  When  I  see  what  their 
enjoyments  consist  of,  what  the  things  are  which 
give  the  elan  to  their  existence,  I  often  think  my 
presence  there  is  a  sort  of  fraud,  and  that  I  have 
no  right  to  arouse  reasonable  expectations  to  be 
so  flatly  disappointed." 

"  I  delight  to  think  of  you  in  such  an  atmos- 
phere," said  Struan.  "  People  are  fond  of  quoting, 
'  You  can't  touch  pitch,  and  not  be  defiled  ' ;  but  no 
one  moralizes  from  the  reverse  of  that,  and  says, 
'You  can't  touch  snow,  and  not  be  purified.'  " 

"  Neither  saying  is  strictly  true  either  as  figure 
or  reality.  We  can  certainly  touch  pitch  out- 
wardly without  being  inwardly  defiled,  and  we  can 


260  STRUAN 

certainly  touch  snow  outwardly  without  being 
inwardly  purified.  So  we  can  come  in  contact 
with  what  is  bad  without  being  harmed  in  the 
least,  and  in  contact  with  good  without  being 
benefited.  Everything  depends  upon  the  material 
on  which  the  influence  works.  For  instance,  if 
my  friend  at  the  picture  exhibition  had  been  the 
very  lowest  of  her  class,  how  could  it  have  hurt 
any  honest  woman  to  take  her  hand  and  be  kind 
to  her  ?  On  the  other  side,  how  does  an  honest 
woman's  life  affect,  for  instance,  the  lives  of  fast 
French  men  and  women  ?  I  can  see  them  shrug 
their  shoulders,  throw  up  hands  and  eyebrows,  and 
say,  c  Figurez-vous  !  '  and  that  is  all." 

"  Then,  Millicent,  if  you  live  in  a  world  which 
you  are  sure  is  past  helping,  you  should  leave  it ; 
for  there's  a  vastly  bigger  world  than  that  which 
needs  your  help." 

"  I  don't  say  it  is  past  helping, —  far  from  it.  I 
believe  any  life  lived  faithfully  is  helpful,  no  matter 
where  it  is  lived.  There  is  always  some  good 
ground  for  the  seed  to  fall  in,  but  always  also,  I 
think,  some  ground  which,  even  from  good  seed, 
produces  only  tares.  I  live  in  that  world  because 
the  person  to  whom  I  am  nearest  and  dearest  lives 
there, —  my  aunt,  who  loves  me  like  a  mother, — 
and  also,  I  must  be  candid  enough  to  confess,  be- 


STRUAN  261 

cause  I've  got  a  taste  for  the  high  flavor  of  life.  I 
love  the  finish  and  fineness  of  it ;  and,  more  than 
that,  I  love  the  opportunity  which  it  gives  of  meeting 
great  people, —  men  and  women  of  commanding 
powers  and  achievements.  I  did  not  know,  until 
I  had  the  perspective  of  distance  upon  it,  how 
delightful  that  opportunity  was.  I  wish  you  could 
come  into  the  life  which  I  lead  for  a  while,,  Isn't 
it  possible  for  even  one  season  ?  " 

A  shadow  crossed  Struan's  face.  When  she 
saw  it,  her  heart  rebuked  her. 

"Let  me  tell  you  something,"  she  said.  "Do 
you  know  I  speak  only  the  simple  truth  when  I 
tell  you  that  I'd  give  it  all  up  —  every  possibility 
offered  by  that  life  —  for  the  sake  of  knowing  one 
such  man  as  you.  Even  that  is  too  little — for  the 
sake,  I  can  honestly  say,  of  knowing  that  one  such 
man  as  you  exists  in  the  same  world  with  me." 

Under  the  delightful  freedom  imparted  by  her 
faith  in  him,  she  allowed  herself  to  say  this  with 
all  the  ardor  that  she  felt,  and  to  look  at  him  with 
kindling  eyes. 

"  Strange  !  "  he  said.  "  Your  words  are  sweet, 
too  sweet,  Millicent,  and  past  my  power  to  com- 
prehend. We  must  be  related  in  some  wonderful 
way  that  we  do  not  understand.  How  comes  it 
that  I  could  be  all  that  to  you  ?  It  is  not  strange 


262  STRUAN 

that  you  are  that  to  me, —  a  consciousness  of  a 
beneficent  presence  in  the  midst  of  evil  days, 
which  is  of  more  value  to  me  than  anything  else, 
certainly  than  any  mere  personal  happiness  could 
be.  But  tell  me,  won't  you,"  he  went  on  with 
a  sudden  changing  of  the  subject,  "  what  was  the 
result  of  your  visit  to  the  acquaintance  you  met  at 
the  picture  exhibition  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  was  very  strange,"  said  Millicent,  as  if 
with  the  release  from  tension.  "  It  was  totally 
different  from  anything  you  might  imagine.  I 
went  to  the  address  she  gave  me,  so  keyed  up  to 
take  calmly  and  lovingly  any  confidences  she  might 
make  to  me,  and  so  determined  not  to  thwart  my 
purpose  of  helping  her  by  seeming  shocked,  that  I 
felt  quite  bewildered  when  I  found  that  she  was 
safely  and  securely  married  to  a  good  man  who 
adores  her.  He  met  her  living  in  that  hideous 
life,  which  he  saw  she  was  so  much  too  good  for  ; 
and  he  took  her  out  of  it,  and  married  her.  They 
have  a  pretty  home,  and  she  is  leading  a  peaceful 
and  protected  life.  So  I  did  not  dare  so  very 
much  in  speaking  to  her  in  public,  after  all  !  " 

"  But  you  didn't  know,  so  you  did  dare  all. 
I'm  not  going  to  let  you  take  away  from  the 
beauty  of  that  act,  one  of  the  most  simply  Christ- 
like  I've  ever  known  of.  But  tell  me  about  this 
woman.  Is  she  happy  ?  " 


STRUAN  263 

Millicent  shook  her  head. 

"  Who  is  ?  "  she  said.  "  Can  you  give  me  an 
instance  ?  " 

"  I  am,"  said  Struan,  gravely.    Then  he  smiled. 

u  Ah  in  that  sense,  so  am  I ;  and  so,  perhaps, 
is  poor  Antoinette  !  "  said  she.  "  I  call  every  man 
and  woman  happy  who  is  able  to  meet  life 
strongly,  to  accept  their  own  personal  share  of 
the  sorrow  of  the  world,  and  to  bear  hardness 
without  complaint.  Any  one  who  looks  can  see 
lots  harder  than  his  own,  and  a  noble  heart  will 
learn  from  that  sight  the  cowardice  of  complain- 
ing. For  my  part,  I  have  found  that  the  greatest 
rebellion  comes  from  those  whose  unhappiness  is 
negative, —  those  who  complain  that  happiness, 
which  with  them  means  getting  the  intense  emo- 
tional pleasures  out  of  life,  is  denied  them.  I  can 
speak  with  authority,"  she  added  after  a  pause, 
"  as,  for  years,  I  had  a  hard  struggle  with  that 
feeling, —  a  thirst  for  joy,  a  need  of  love,  which,  I 
told  myself,  was  a  beautiful  thing,  not  to  be 
suppressed,  but  cherished.  And  this,  I  still 
think,  was  true,  provided  I  did  not  allow  that  feel- 
ing to  be  the  supreme  motive  of  life." 

"  Ah,  yes  !  "  said  Struan,  and  waited  eagerly  for 
her  to  go  on. 

"  For  a  while,  I  did,"  she  said,   "  and  lived  in 


264  STRUAN 

the  excited  indulgence  of  the  dream  that  I  was  to 
be  blessed  and  rewarded  above  other  women. 
Wretched  years  those  were,  when  all  my  thoughts 
were  concentrated  on  '  the  miserable  aims  that 
end  with  self,'  as  my  adored  George  Eliot  says. 
I  think  she  helped  me  out  of  that  slough  of 
egoism  more  than  any  one." 

Something  in  her  words,  and  more  still  in  her 
looks  and  tones,  moved  Struan  deeply.  But  he 
looked  away  from  her,  and  did  not  speak.  When, 
at  last,  he  turned  his  eyes  upon  her,  he  saw  that 
her  mood  had  changed  completely. 

"  I  can't  paint  any  more  to-day,"  she  said. 
"The  fit  is  off  me,  and  I  am  going  to  indulge  my 
idle  feelings.  It  isn't  often  I  smoke  two  cigarettes 
at  a  time,  for  I  am  very  moderate  in  the  indulgence 
of  my  one  vice.  Do  you  light  another,  so  that,  if 
Bonnemaman  comes  in,  I  can  throw  mine  away, 
and  you  can  take  the  responsibility  of  the  smoke." 

"  Does  she  object  to  your  smoking  ? "  said 
Struan,  watching  her  with  pleasure  as  she  poised 
cigarette  and  match  in  her  fingers,  and  whiffed 
a  puff  or  two,  afterward  blowing  out  the  match 
with  a  long,  gentle  breath  that  made  the  flame 
dance  and  flicker  along  the  wood  with  a  little  flut- 
tering noise.  She  was  so  interested  in  watching 
her  own  performance,  with  her  long  eyes  lowered, 


STRUAN  265 

that  she  forgot  that  Struan  was  watching  her. 
When  she  looked  up  and  caught  his  eyes,  she 
smiled. 

"  That's  an  old  trick  of  mine  from  childhood," 
she  said,  and  added  suddenly,  "  What  were  you 
thinking  of  then  ?  " 

Struan  had  been,  in  reality,  thinking  that  he  was 
not  quite  sure  that  he  liked  a  woman  to  smoke. 
Perhaps  it  was  because  he  had  been  accustomed  to 
those  who  did  it  in  an  objectionable  way.  Cer- 
tainly, Millicent  turned  the  thing  to  favor  and  to 
prettiness. 

"  I  insist  on  knowing  what  you  are  thinking 
of,"  she  said,  delighted  to  ask  the  question,  because 
it  was  one  which  she  would  not  have  ventured  to 
put  to  most  men  under  these  circumstances. 

"Ah,"  he  said,  "thoughts  are  flocking  thick 
and  fast.  One  is  that  perhaps  I  ought  to  tell  you 
that  the  reason  for  my  plunging  so  irrelevantly 
into  an  inquiry  for  your  friend  Antoinette  was  be- 
cause what  you  had  said  just  before  was  almost 
sweeter  than  I  could  bear." 

"  And  why  should  you  not  bear  sweetness  ? " 
she  said  with  a  clear  look  into  his  eyes.  "  You 
have  borne  hardness,  and  borne  it  well.  Take 
care  you  don't  make  a  mistake  in  rejecting  what 
is  as  rightfully  your  portion.  I  think  you  are  in 
danger  of  doing  that,  and  I  warn  you." 


266  STRUAN 

Struan  looked  at  her  fixedly.  She  seemed  to 
him  all  loveliness,  from  the  toes  of  her  little  slip- 
pers to  the  tips  of  the  fingers  laced  together  above 
her  head. 

"  What  do  you  conceive  to  be  my  danger, — 
you  ?  "  he  said  deliberately. 

"  Yes,  in  a  way,"  she  answered  ;  "  but  the  dan- 
ger consists  in  letting  me  go,  not  in  accepting  me. 
Look  at  me,  Lucien.  I  am  deeply  in  earnest  in 
what  I  say.  I  am  a  brave  woman,  perhaps  a 
bold  one.  I  fancy  I  see  that  at  the  present  mo- 
ment you  are  not  so  brave  as  I.  Since  we  have 
been  in  this  room,  if  I  read  you  aright,  you  have 
had  certain  misgivings  as  to  the  wisdom  of  con- 
tinuing our  intercourse.  I  have  never  had  one. 
The  very  point  in  which  you  see  danger  is  my 
bulwark  of  strength.  The  attraction  of  our  nat- 
ures, minds,  individualities,  for  each  other,  is  a 
thing  which  we  feel  keenly  aware  of.  What  is 
the  ground  of  this  attraction  ?  I  am  sure  that  its 
strongest  element  is  our  mutual  belief  in  each 
other,  with  all  that  that  word  'belief  implies. 
What  is  it  worth,  if  we  are  afraid  of  one  another, 
if  we  dare  not  take  the  good  the  gods  —  no,  I 
will  say  God  provides  —  because  we  cannot  trust 
each  other  or  ourselves  to  avoid  wrong  and  foolish 
consequences  ?  We  are  neither  of  us  young  nor 


STRUAN  267 

rash.  Our  eyes  are  opened  to  see  good  and  evil, 
and  we  each  have  a  conscience.  I  am  not  afraid. 
Are  you  ?  " 

"  Not  of  all  hell,"  he  answered.  "  You  have 
scattered  to  the  winds  the  petty  scruples  which  I 
am  ashamed  to  own.  You  have  shown  me  the 
thing  in  its  true  light,  and  I  accept  you  as  the  gift 
of  God." 

"  And  so,  absolutely  so,  do  I  accept  you,"  she 
said.  "  You  are  an  answered  need  in  my  life. 
You  are  the  one  person  to  whom  I  feel  I  can  tell 
all  things  that  ever  I  did,  the  great  and  the  small. 
Only  there  seem  to  be  no  great  ones  :  all  seems 
small.  Even  my  own  endurance,  which  at  times 
has  seemed  to  me  not  insignificant,  shrinks  to 
nothing  when  I  think  what  you  have  borne  from 
various  causes  in  your  life.  Leonard  has  told  me 
a  great  deal,  and  I  know  that  there  is  far  more 
than  he  or  I  have  dreamed." 

"  My  life  has  been  full  of  mistakes,"  he  said. 
"  My  greatest  fault  has  been  the  lack  of  patience, 
and  that  seems  to  me  a  quality  that  you  possess  in 
a  remarkable  degree." 

"  If  you  draw  contrasts,"  said  Millicent,  "  so 
do  I.  Sometimes  I  wonder  if  this  quality  which 
you  call  patience  in  me,  this  power  of  waiting, 
will,  in  the  long  run,  prove  to  have  done  good  or 


268  STRUAN 

harm.  I  see  how  eager  you  are  to  assure  me  of 
the  good,  but  I  have  come  seriously  to  doubt  if 
you  are  right.  The  aim  of  life,  as  you  and  I 
accept  it,  being  the  formation  of  character,  ob- 
stacles and  hindrances  are  things  to  be  sought  and 
welcomed.  Sometimes  it  seems  a  nobler  thing  to 
act  impulsively,  and  make  mistakes  and  grow 
strong  in  overcoming  them,  than  to  be  so  self- 
guarded,  watchful,  and  patient  as  to  keep  out  of 
harm's  way,  preserve  one's  self  intact  and  inviolate, 
and  to  have  nothing  to  regret,  unless  it  be  that 
after  a  while  there  comes  a  wondering  regret  for 
the  absence  of  regret, —  I  mean  for  the  deeper, 
keener,  it  may  be  the  sadder  experiences  of  life 
which  what  we  call  our  mistakes  are  sure  to  bring 
us.  As  a  record  of  life,  the  fair  unwritten  page  of 
inexperience  seems  to  me  far  less  valuable  than 
the  scored  and  blotted  sheet  that  tells  of  a  life  of 
heiy  ordeals,  temptations,  and  even  falls,  if  from 
these  one  has  risen  again." 

"  Your  life  has  not  been  without  temptations," 
said  Struan,  with  a  serious  affirmation  that  made 
her  feel  that  he  saw  deep  into  her  nature. 

"No,  it  has  not,  thank  God,"  she  answered 
earnestly.  "  And  I  can  think  of  some  which  were 
worth  struggling  with.  My  keenest  temptation 
has  been  marriage.  I  had  such  a  thirst  for  the 


STRUAN  269 

fulness  of  life  which  can  come  only  with  marriage 
and  parenthood  that,  more  than  once,  I  came  near 
making  a  compromise,  blinding  my  eyes  and  stop- 
ping my  ears  to  facts  which  sight  and  hearing  de- 
clared to  be  positive  obstacles  to  true  marriage.  I 
wondered  then,  as  I  wonder  still,  if  a  positive 
mistake  might  not  be  in  this  case  a  more  profit- 
able thing  in  its  fruits  than  a  negative  prudence. 
Sometimes  I  share  the  opinion  that  remorse  is 
preferable  to  regret,  if  by  remorse  one  means  re- 
pentance for  doing,  and  by  regret  sorrow  for  not 
doing.  As  early  youth  slipped  from  me,  and  I 
began  to  look  at  the  possibility  that  I  might  not 
marry,  I  was  bewildered  to  think  of  what  my 
future  was  to  be.  I  thought  of  all  the  unmarried 
women  I  knew,  and  something  very  strong  in  me 
rebelled  at  the  idea  of  joining  their  ranks.  But 
there  was  a  yet  stronger  rebellion  against  a  mar- 
riage which  did  not  fulfil  the  conditions  which  my 
nature  and  my  conscience  demanded.  Well,  I 
have  remained  unmarried ;  and,  under  these  cir- 
cumstances, I  might  be  allowed  some  credit  for 
it.  It  may  be  so ;  but,  while  I  do  not  fully  in- 
dorse, I  understand  better  than  I  once  did  a  speech 
which  I  once  heard  a  woman  make,  and  thought 
at  the  time  that  it  was  infamous.  She  said  that 
her  experience  had  taught  her  that  it  was  better 


270  STRUAN 

for  women  to  marry  badly  than  not  at  all.  As  I 
say,  I  don't  agree  with  her ;  but  I  can  see  her 
point  of  view.  Marriage  develops  more  than  any- 
thing, and  it  is  development  that  we  want  most." 

"  Ah,  yes  !  marriage,"  cried  Struan,  —  "  the 
true  marriage  that  is  of  mind  and  soul  as  well  as 
body ;  but  never  believe  that  an  incomplete  and 
mistaken  marriage  develops  any  noble  trait  except 
endurance,  which  may  sometimes  be  noble  and 
sometimes  not.  I  can  understand,  Millicent,  how 
your  life  has  been  starved  for  want  of  the  highest 
good  and  joy  that  is  given  to  men  and  women  ;  but 
you  should  thank  God  that  you  have  stood  firm, 
and  accepted  no  compromise.  Why  has  the  world 
gone  so  wrong,  I  wonder  ?  It  was  a  very  beauti- 
ful and  perfect  order  of  creation  that  made  men 
and  women  for  each  other ;  but  the  low  ideal  of 
marriage,  in  the  minds  of  men  chiefly,  is  at  the 
bottom  of  all  the  mischief  and  misery.  This  it  is 
that  furnishes  the  explanation  of  the  fact  that  the 
superior  women,  the  grand  women,  the  women 
who  should  be  the  mothers  of  generations  of  great 
ones  to  come,  do  not  marry  ;  and  from  this  source 
I  explain  chiefly  the  degeneracy  of  the  race." 

Warmly  touched  by  the  ardor  of  his  tones, 
Millicent  rose  from  the  lounge,  went  to  a  distant 
table,  and  got  a  small  book  which  she  brought 


STRUAN  271 

back  with  her,  and  stood  before  Struan,  turning 
the  leaves  in  search  of  some  special  thing. 

She  looked  taller  than  usual  in  this  scant  gown, 
with  its  long  lines  crossed  by  the  loose  girdle  at 
her  waist.  Her  brown  hair  was  twisted  into  a  rich 
knot  behind,  underneath  which  soft  Little  curls 
nestled  about  her  lovely  nuque.  Her  gown  was 
cut  to  the  edge  of  the  white  column  of  her  throat, 
where  it  ended  in  a  severe  line,  without  trim- 
ming. The  fine  hands,  which  showed  their  form 
distinctly  against  the  dark  blue  cover  of  the  book, 
were  without  rings  or  bracelets  j  and  their  fairness 
was  accentuated  by  one  or  two  streaks  of  paint. 

Struan  was  taking  in  these  details  as  she  stood 
and  turned  the  pages. 

"  Ah,  here  it  is  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  don't 
know  who  wrote  it ;  but  its  philosophy  appeals  to 
me,  and  comforts  me  when  things  are  at  their 
worst."  And  she  read  : 

"Serene,  I  fold  my  hands  and  wait, 

Nor  care  for  wind,  nor  tide,  nor  sea ; 
I  rave  no  more  'gainst  time  and  fate, 
For,  lo,  my  own  shall  come  to  me  ! 

"I  stay  my  haste,  I  make  delays. 

For  what  avails  this  eager  pace  ? 
I  stand  amid  the  eternal  ways, 

And  what  is  mine  shall  know  my  face. 


272  STRUAN 

"The  stars  come  nightly  to  the  sky, 

The  tidal  wave  unto  the  sea  ; 
Nor  time,  nor  space,  nor  deep,  nor  high, 
Can  keep  my  own  away  from  me!" 

As  she  finished  the  lines  in  her  sweet,  thrilling 
voice,  and  closed  the  book,  they  looked  into  each 
other's  eyes. 

Millicent  had  grown  accustomed  now  to  that 
gaze  of  insight.  He  also  knew  well,  by  this  time, 
that  sprite  look  through  the  lashes  of  her  lowered 
lids. 

As  she  bent  that  look  upon  him  now,  the  smile 
that  matched  it  came  to  her  lips,  and  the  little 
murmur  of  laughter  in  her  throat.  She  knew  that 
she  was  allowing  herself  to  be  dangerously  charm- 
ing, but  she  knew  also  that  Struan  was  strong. 

It  was  a  strong  smile  with  which  he  answered 
her  look  now.  Then,  simultaneously,  both  faces 
grew  grave  with  an  interchange  of  glances  that 
signified  a  deep  mutual  comprehension. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  as  if  answering  her  thought, 
"  though  much  is  lost  to  both  of  us,  much  is  also 
left." 

"  We  have  c  our  own,'  or  shall  have  it !  "  she 
said.  "  If  we  fail  in  everything  else,  we  may  suc- 
ceed in  what  is  the  highest, —  the  making  of  a 
character.  It  is  strange  that  people  who  fail  in 


STRUAN  273 

other  things  —  in  art,  in  literature,  in  business,  in 
love  —  do  not  oftener  take  comfort  in  that.  It 
seems  a  beautiful  thing  that  the  very  highest  field 
of  greatness  is  attainable  by  all.  And  not  only  is 
a  great  character  higher  than  a  great  painter  or 
writer  or  inventor,  or  any  of  those  things,  but  I 
even  think  that  it  is  rarer.  I  don't  mean  simple 
goodness  and  admirableness,  more  or  less  tainted 
with  egoism  ;  but  I  mean  the  very  highest  good- 
ness, the  best  of  high  thinking  and  high  doing, 
which,  if  developed  to  man's  greatest  possibility, 
must,  it  seems  to  me,  be  more  thrilling  and  im- 
pressive than  any  genius  which  works  upon  canvas 
or  paper  or  electricity,  or  any  mere  material 
things.  I  remember  once  that  I  said  this  to  Len 
when  he  was  much  discouraged  about  his  work, 
and  it  helped  him." 

"  Bless  you  !  "  said  Struan,  fervently.  "  Heaven 
bless  you,  Millicent,  for  all  the  noble  thoughts 
you  have  put  into  Len's  head, —  and  into  his 
father's,  also  !  " 

To  his  surprise,  he  saw  Millicent's  eyes  fill 
suddenly. 

"  O  Lucien,  don't !  "  she  said  in  a  voice  that 
choked  a  little.  "  If  you  knew  how  it  makes  me 
feel,  you  would  not  say  a  thing  like  that  to  me. 
I'm  afraid  it's  mostly  talk  with  me.  I've  never 


274  STRUAN 

done  anything  worth  speaking  of;  and  what  I've 
refrained  from  doing  seems  a  poor,  negative  sort  of 
merit.  But  I  can  say  this,  Lucien, —  to  you, — 
what  I  have  borne,  in  doing  without  love  in  my 
life,  makes  me  feel  that  I  know  something  of 
endurance.  But  even  this  merit,  if  merit  it  be, 
was  involuntary.  I  would  have  taken  it  at  any 
cost  if  I  could  have  got  it  without  injury  to 
others.  I  am  afraid  that  my  endurance  has 
amounted  to  very  little,  except  that  it  has  been 
more  or  less  uncomplaining." 


XXII 

THE  next  day  was  Sunday,  one  of  those 
benign,  still  days  which  seem  only  to 
belong  to  an  American  Sunday  in  the 
springtime. 

Struan  and  Millicent  on  leaving  the  breakfast 
table  had  seated  themselves  on  a  broad  piazza 
which  overlooked  the  sloping  lawn,  now  green 
and  downy  with  the  young  spring  grass.  There 
was  a  clump  of  willows  some  distance  off,  and  the 
rising  sap  in  their  long  stems  made  a  gold-colored 
lattice-work  against  the  clear  blue  sky. 

From  time  to  time  the  silence  was  accentuated 
by  some  pleasant  country  noises, —  the  crowing  of 
a  rooster,  the  lowing  of  a  cow,  the  tinkle  of  a 
sheep-bell. 

It  was  exquisitely  serene  and  sweet,  and  Struan 
had  just  said  that  he  wondered  if  it  might  not 
be  a  little  like  the  Garden  of  Eden,  when  Mrs. 
Milner  came  out,  and  said  it  was  time  to  get  ready 
for  church,  and  that  she  was  not  well  enough  to 
go  to-day.  She  followed  this  announcement  with 
a  significant  look  at  Millicent. 

"  I'll  get  ready  at  once,  Bonnemaman,"  Milli- 
275 


276  STRUAN 

cent  said,  rising.  "  Will  you  go  with  me, 
Lucien  ?  " 

"  With  pleasure,"  said  Struan,  promptly,  feel- 
ing a  sudden  glow  at  his  heart,  which  he  did  not 
quite  understand.  He  was  very  regardless  of  the 
forms  of  religion  himself,  but  he  was  deeply  Chris- 
tian in  his  heart ;  and  poor  little  Jenny's  utter 
Paganism  often  smote  him. 

A  little  later  he  came  out  of  his  room  ready ; 
and  Millicent  heard  him  bounding  downstairs 
two  steps  at  a  time,  with  the  impetuousness  of  a 
boy. 

"  You  need  not  have  been  in  such  haste,"  she 
said,  as  she  joined  him  on  the  porch  in  bonnet  and 
gloves.  "  The  church  is  very  near.  Bonnemaman 
built  this  little  church  to  solve  the  carriage-on- 
Sunday  problem  in  her  own  mind." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  he  said,  as  he  took 
from  her  the  two  small  books  which  she  had 
brought,  and  went  down  the  steps  at  her  side. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  she  said,  "  Bonnemaman  is 
a  great  believer  in  the  sacred  observance  of  Sun- 
day, and  is  one  of  those  Christians  who,  when 
you  prove  to  them  that  the  New  Testament  does 
not  enjoin  it,  thinks  that  it  ought  to,  if  it  doesn't. 
So  she  would  never  use  her  horses  and  carriage 
on  Sunday,  because  she  wishes  the  men  to  go  to 


STRUAN  277 

church.  What  was  my  surprise,  therefore,  to 
find  that  in  Paris  her  coachman  had  a  standing 
order  to  bring  round  the  carriage  morning  and 
afternoon  on  every  Sunday  !  I  was  at  first  be- 
wildered by  the  suggestion  that  Paris  had  cor- 
rupted my  little  grandmother.  At  last  something 
brought  about  an  explanation  ;  and  she  told  me 
that,  much  against  her  preference,  she  compelled 
herself  to  drive  to  church  twice  a  day,  in  order  to 
prevent  her  coachman  from  going  to  the  cafes 
chantants  and  other  places  of  the  sort  on  Sunday. 
That's  a  positive  fact,  and  she  has  always  been 
quite  unaware  that  it  has  a  funny  side  to  it." 

Struan  laughed,  but  said  nothing  as  he  walked 
along  at  her  side,  stirring  the  sun-warmed  box- 
bushes  with  his  stick  and  liberating  from  them 
their  pungent,  delicious  smell,  which  flooded  the 
air  with  its  sweetness. 

"  Oh,  how  I  love  that  !  "  said  Millicent,  sniffing 
it  in.  "  It's  the  best  of  all  smells  to  me.  It 
wakes  up  every  pleasant  memory  of  the  past, 
and  creates  a  host  of  bright  possibilities  ahead  for 
me." 

"  How  strange !  How  extraordinary  !  "  said 
Struan.  "  I  have  precisely  the  same  feeling 
about  it." 

"  That   doesn't    seem   to  me  strange,  but    nat- 


278  STRUAN 

ural,"  said  Millicent.  "  We  think  and  feel  very 
much  alike.  Why  should  not  the  same  odors 
appeal  to  us  ?  There  must  be  a  law  that  governs 
these  things." 

He  did  not  answer ;  and,  after  they  had  walked 
on  in  silence  for  some  paces,  he  said  : 

"  Do  you  go  regularly  to  church  ?  " 

"  Pretty  regularly,"  she  said.  "  I  go  when  I 
feel  like  it,  and  don't  go  when  I  don't  feel  like  it ; 
but,  as  I  generally  feel  like  it,  it  isn't  such  a  lax 
rule  as  it  looks." 

"  Are  you  orthodox  ?  "  said  Struan,  smiling  and 
yet  grave. 

"  I  am  between  two  stools.  Half  of  my 
friends,  headed  by  Bonnemaman,  think  me  dan- 
gerously daring  in  theory  and  lax  in  practice ; 
while  the  other  half,  my  aunt  and  my  friends 
abroad,  think  me  more  or  less  timid  and  or- 
thodox." 

"  You  are  not  timid,"  he  said  decidedly. 

For  the  rest  of  the  walk  they  were  almost 
wholly  silent.  Perhaps  each  felt  the  sense  of 
companionship  more  perfect  so. 

When  they  entered  the  church  and  went  to 
Mrs.  Milner's  pew,  and  Millicent  knelt  for  a 
moment  in  silent  prayer,  Struan  knelt  also. 
Whether  or  not  she  had  any  petition  to  make  to 


STRUAN  279 

God,  he  did  not  know.  For  himself,  he  had  none. 
The  only  utterance  of  his  heart  as  he  knelt  there 
was  a  deep  thanksgiving,  just  a  simple  thought  of 
gratitude  to  have  met  this  woman  at  last,  to  have 
seen  and  spoken  to  her,  to  know  that  she  was  in 
the  world. 

Perhaps  there  was  no  one  in  the  church  that 
day  to  whom  the  service  made  so  strong  an  appeal 
as  to  Struan.  The  very  lack  of  familiarity  made 
the  beautiful  prayers  more  affecting  to  him. 

The  scriptural  lessons  also  struck  the  same 
chords  in  the  hearts  of  each.  Millicent  found  the 
places,  and  offered  him  part  of  her  book ;  and  he 
followed  the  service,  feeling  that  he  held  her  by 
this  sacred  bond.  Her  gloved  thumb  was  on  one 
corner  of  the  little  book,  and  his  ungloved  thumb 
on  the  other. 

The  service  ended  with  a  hymn.  Millicent 
found  the  place,  and  he  had  just  begun  to  read  the 
words,  when  he  heard  a  voice,  low  and  sweet, 
singing,  as  near  to  him  as  his  heart  it  seemed  : 

"Lead,  Kindly  Light, —  amid  the  encircling  gloom, 

Lead  thou  me  on. 
The  night  is  dark,  and  I  am  far  from  home: 

Lead  thou  me  on. 

Keep  thou  my  feet.     I  do  not  ask  to  see 
The  distant  scene  :  one  step  enough  for  me." 


280  STRUAN 

When  the  hymn  ended,  they  knelt  for  the 
benediction.  The  sweetness  of  that  voice,  those 
words,  was  almost  too  much.  Tears  overflowed 
his  eyes,  and  he  was  glad  to  bow  his  head. 

He  was  a  great  musician,  and  Millicent's  voice 
was  but  a  small  one.  Yet  no  music  he  had  ever 
heard  had  moved  his  spirit  like  this. 

They  walked  home  in  almost  total  silence. 
There  seemed  little  need  of  speech.  Now  and 
then  they  looked  at  each  other,  and  sometimes 
smiled,  as  if  in  comprehension.  There  was  a 
divine  feeling  in  their  hearts,  an  acceptance  of 
sorrow  as  right  and  beautiful  because  of  the  fruit 
it  yielded.  Perhaps  in  that  moment  neither  of 
them  would  have  exchanged  it  for  joy. 

Near  the  church  they  met  a  little  child  running 
swiftly  to  overtake  her  sister  who  had  gone  ahead. 
The  joyousness  of  the  little  creature,  who  was 
laughing  as  she  ran,  stirred  Millicent  strangely. 
She  caught  her  up  and  kissed  her  ardently,  then 
turned  her  toward  Struan,  that  he  might  look  at  the 
glad,  unclouded  face.  Then  she  looked  from  that 
little  face  to  Struan's,  and  her  eyes  were  full  of 
tears.  He  understood  their  mute  questioning ;  for, 
as  she  put  the  eager  creature  down,  he  said  : 

"  Her  unknowingness  ?  Isn't  it  that  that 
touches  you  so  ?  " 


STRUAN  281 

She  nodded  briefly,  and  the  lines  about  her 
mouth  worked  a  little.  She  covered  her  eyes 
with  her  hand,  but  he  could  see  the  piteousness 
of  the  lower  lip  caught  between  her  teeth. 

"  I  understand,"  he  said  in  a  strong  voice  that 
steadied  her ;  "  and,  if  I  look  at  her  and  fear,  I 
have  only  to  look  at  you  and  I  exult.  O  Milli- 
cent,  Millicent,  c  God's  in  his  heaven,  all  is  right 
with  the  world  ! '  " 

Millicent  had  recovered  her  self-control.  She 
could  not  trust  herself  to  speak,  however.  She 
put  out  her  hand  impulsively,  and  he  took  it  a 
second  in  both  his  own.  She  felt  a  new  strength 
come  into  her  from  that  firm  grasp ;  and,  as  she 
drew  her  hand  away,  she  smiled.  It  was  almost 
a  smile  of  triumph,  and  there  was  triumph  also  in 
his  eyes. 

So  they  reached  home  at  last,  full  of  a  strange 
sweet  comfort  born  of  the  willing  surrender  which 
was  in  both  their  hearts.  They  were  tasting  of 
a  joy  unknown  to  youth, —  the  knowledge  that  the 
soul's  need  is  a  more  important  thing  than  the 
heart's  desire.  An  exquisite  contentment  possessed 
them  both,  in  the  light  of  which  all  things  that 
were  were  right. 


XXIII 

THE  three  inmates  of  Mrs.  Milner's  house 
had  each  retired  for  an  afternoon  rest. 
Millicent,  however,  found  it  impossible 
to  go  to  sleep ;  and,  after  an  unrefreshing  nap,  she 
lay  a  long  time  thinking. 

It  was  impossible  that  she  could  long  remain  on 
such  a  heaven-kissing  hill  as  that  of  her  last  inter- 
view with  Struan.  The  strength  of  it  had  passed 
into  her  soul,  and  she  knew  that  she  was  perma- 
nently enriched  and  fortified  by  it ;  but  now  came 
back  those  thoughts  of  sadness  never  far  away 
from  any  of  us,  and  always  so  ready  to  respond  to 
the  first  bidding  to  enter. 

At  last  she  resolved  to  get  up  and  write  to 
Leonard.  There  were  writing  materials  in  the 
studio,  and  she  decided  to  go  up  there  and  write 
her  letter. 

She  stood  before  the  glass  and  brushed  out  her 
thick  hair,  twisting  it  into  a  pretty  knot,  and  get- 
ting the  effect  of  back  and  sides  with  her  hand- 
glass. Then  she  slipped  on  a  little  gown  of  dull 
rose-colored  silk,  and  belted  it  loosely  with  her 
silver  girdle.  Then,  bending  very  near  the  glass, 
282 


STRUAN  283 

she  looked  at  herself  scrutinizingly.  She  had  done 
this  very  often  to  ask  herself  candidly  if  she  were 
losing  her  beauty ;  but  still  she  could  tell  herself 
no.  Some  sharp  pangs  she  had  suffered  when  she 
had  seen  the  charm  which  belongs  to  mere  youth 
fading  and  passing,  but  the  beauty  which  had  come 
with  mature  womanhood  was  equal  now  to  its 
best.  She  felt  very  thankful  for  it.  It  would 
have  been  a  pain  to  feel  it  otherwise. 

The  long  mirror  showed  her  tall  figure  com- 
plete. As  she  caught  up  the  train  of  her  gown, 
preparatory  to  leaving  the  room,  the  sight  of  her 
slender  feet  below  the  frills  of  her  skirt  gave  her  a 
distinct  pleasure.  She  cared  so  intensely  for 
everything  that  was  beautiful  that  she  cherished 
with  gratitude  every  claim  to  beauty  that  she 
possessed. 

All  her  life  Millicent  had  believed  that  these 
things  would  one  day  make  her  dearer  to  some 
one  who  should  be  supremely  dear  to  her.  How 
old,  old,  old  that  cherished  idea  had  grown ! 
Would  she  be  compelled,  after  all,  to  confess  that 
it  had  been  foolish  ? 

"  I  am  forty  years  old,"  she  said  to  herself  as 
she  walked  up  the  steps.  "  How  would  I  look 
upon  this  youthful  thirst  for  love  in  another 
woman,  if  I  could  see  it  without  prejudice  ? 


284  STRUAN 

Would  I  call  it  preposterous,  undignified,  silly  ? 
Perhaps  I  should.  I  have  managed  to  hide  it 
carefully,  and  I  must  bury  it  deeper  and  deeper 
still.  But,  the  deeper  I  put  it  there,  the  stronger 
root  does  it  take,  so  that  I  wonder  which  will  die 
first,  it  or  me.  Well,"  she  ended  with  a  sigh, 
"  I'll  go  and  write  to  Leonard,  who  is  gloriously 
young  and  has  the  world  before  him.  If  he  makes 
of  his  world,  however,  no  more  than  I  have  made 
of  mine,  I  would  not  care  to  change  places  with 
him." 

Treading  lightly  on  her  softly  slippered  feet, 
she  entered  the  studio,  and  closed  the  door  behind 
her.  Just  within  the  threshold  she  stopped  short, 
catching  her  breath  for  fear  of  making  a  noise. 
There  before  her,  his  strong  body  stretched  at 
length  upon  the  lounge,  lay  Struan,  fast  asleep. 

He  seemed  very  tall,  almost  as  tall  as  Len  ;  and 
there  was  a  stronger  likeness  to  his  son  than  she 
had  ever  seen  in  him  before. 

She  crossed  the  room  very  softly,  resting  at 
each  footstep,  and  sank  noiselessly  into  a  padded 
chair  that  stood  not  far  from  the  lounge.  There 
she  sat,  profoundly  still,  and  looked  at  him  with 
scrutiny. 

His  features,  utterly  off-guard,  were  sadder  than 
she  had  ever  seen  them.  The  lines  in  his  face 


STRUAN  285 

were  deeper,  and  there  were  more  gray  hairs  in  his 
thick  locks  than  she  had  noticed  before ;  but, 
sleeping  or  waking,  he  had  a  look  of  power  that 
she  had  never  seen  in  any  other  man.  She 
watched  the  deep,  regular  breaths  ;  and  she  looked 
at  his  dark-skinned  hands  and  muscular  limbs  with 
a  pleasure  in  his  physical  strength.  His  will,  his 
thoughts,  his  resolutions,  she  felt  to  be  equally 
strong.  She  reflected,  with  a  sort  of  protest,  that 
there  was,  perhaps,  such  a  thing  as  being  too  strong. 
This  man,  it  seemed,  could  not  even  be  tempted. 
There  was,  and  she  knew  it,  a  vein  of  reckless- 
ness in  her  which  sometimes  fired  her  to  very  wild 
imaginings ;  but  she  could  conceive  of  no  such 
spirit  in  the  man  asleep  before  her. 

As  she  sat  watching  his  face,  a  sudden  change 
came  over  it.  She  could  not  see  that  any  feature 
moved ;  but,  as  when  a  light  from  behind  will 
bring  out  pictures  on  a  screen  which  have  been 
there  unseen  before,  the  spirit  within  this  man 
irradiated  his  features  with  a  look  of  happiness 
which  was  as  evident  to  Millicent  as  were  the 
features  themselves. 

She  leaned  nearer  to  him,  wondering  and  in- 
terested. Something,  perhaps  the  fixedness  of  her 
gaze,  waked  him. 

As  his  eyes  opened,  she  looked  at  him  and 
smiled,  with  that  sprite  look  in  her  long  eyes. 


286  STRUAN 

Her  next  consciousness  was  that  he  had  caught 
her  in  his  arms.  Instantly  afterward  he  had  re- 
leased her,  and  she  was  sinking  back  into  her 
chair,  watching  him  as  he  crossed  the  room  rapidly 
and  stood  looking  out  of  the  window. 

Her  heart  bounded  as  she  looked  at  him,  his 
hands  thrust  deep  into  the  pockets  of  his  sack 
coat,  strained  hard  across  his  back.  The  whole 
figure  was  erect  and  tense,  as  of  a  man  braced  to 
bear. 

He  stood  some  moments  there  intensely  still. 
Then  he  turned,  crossed  the  room,  and  stood 
before  her,  his  manner  self-possessed,  his  eyes 
serious  and  candid.  The  keen,  wild  light  that 
she  had  seen  in  them  for  that  brief  instant  was 
quite  gone. 

"  It  isn't  an  apology  that  I  have  to  make  to  you, 
Millicent,"  he  said.  "  It  is  an  explanation.  I 
had  been  asleep  and  dreaming.  The  dream  is 
responsible.  When  I  opened  my  eyes  and  saw 
you  there,  I  was  not  fully  awake.  I  was  dreaming 
still  when  I  jumped  up  from  that  lounge  and  until 
I  touched  you.  Then  I  waked." 

Millicent  kept  her  eyes  upon  him  steadily. 

"Tell  me  your  dream,"  she  said. 

He  met  her  gaze  as  steadily  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  said, 


STRUAN  287 

"  I  should  like  to,  but  I  will  not." 

"  You  will,"  she  said  with  low-toned  deter- 
mination, while  her  eyes  held  his  resolutely. 

"  You  are  wrong,"  he  said.     "  I  will  not." 

Her  face  softened  to  the  gentlest  smile.  Eyes 
and  lips  smiled  together,  as  she  said  in  the  coaxing 
tone  of  a  child  accustomed  to  being  indulged  : 

"  But,  Lucien,  if  I  beg,  if  I  beseech,  if  I 
implore  ?  " 

"  Not  even  then,"  he  said  with  a  smile.  "  O 
Millicent,  Millicent,  you  complete  woman  !  You 
shall  not  compel  me  to  a  thing  my  soul  forbids. 
You  would  despise  me  if  you  could  do  it.  You 
know  the  woman  power  in  you  ;  and  you  count 
upon  it,  as  well  you  may.  You  will  not  often  find 
that  you  overestimate  it.  In  this  instance,  how- 
ever, you  have  not  known  the  counter-power  that 
there  is  in  me.  I  scarcely  knew  it  myself  until 
two  minutes  ago.  If  I  had  allowed  you  to  compel 
me  to  tell  you  that  dream,  I  should  have  been 
master  of  myself  no  longer.  And  master  of  my- 
self I  am." 

"  And  so  you  shall  remain,  for  all  of  me,  my 
noble  kinsman,"  she  said  with  an  utter  change  of 
look  and  tone.  "  I  have  had  certain  theories 
about  you  which  I  had  some  interest  in  testing." 

"  For  instance,  whether  I  was  weak  or 
strong  ?  " 


288  STRUAN 

His  smile  nettled  her  a  little  as  she  answered, 

"  Not  that  exactly  j  but  you  have  more  than 
once  suggested  the  doubt  to  me  as  to  whether 
a  man  might  not  be,  in  a  certain  way,  too  strong, 
—  that  is,  might  not  be  so  afraid  of  giving  way  to 
feeling  that  it  would  amount  to  cowardice,  and 
would,  in  the  end,  crush  feeling  out,  thus  making 
him  weak  instead  of  strong." 

"  It  might.  I  can  see  that  possibility,  but  it  is 
a  danger  that  does  not  exist  for  me.  There  is  no 
danger  of  my  being  too  strong,  Millicent.  There 
is  some  —  not  very  much,  I  think,  but  some  —  of 
my  not  being  strong  enough.  And  as  for  crushing 
feeling  out  of  me,  you  dear  and  innocent  woman- 
thing,  you  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about. 
All  my  life  it  has  been  almost  too  big  for  me  to 
hold, —  as  if  a  giant  lived  inside  a  dwarf,  and 
fought  continually  for  room  to  move  and  stretch. 
As  I  grow  older,  I  do  not  find  the  giant  to  grow 
either  smaller  or  weaker :  only  the  dwarf,  by  con- 
stant strain  and  hardening  of  the  muscles,  grows 
stronger  with  him,  and  has  never,  so  far,  given 
him  the  advantage  which  he  has  fought  for  day  or 
night." 

A  certain  decided  change  came  over  his  face  as 
he  took  a  chair  and  drew  it  toward  Millicent,  so 
that  he  faced  her  directly.  When  he  spoke,  his 
voice,  too,  was  different. 


STRUAN  289 

"  I  have  been  waiting  for  this  opportunity,"  he 
said,  "  to  ask  you  to  listen  to  me,  Millicent,  while 
I  tell  you,  as  quickly  as  I  possibly  can,  one  or  two 
things  which  are  needed  to  give  you  an  insight 
into  my  life.  I  do  not  want  to  sadden  you  ;  and 
I  hope  to  give  you,  with  these  confidences,  some- 
thing of  the  strength  which  has  enabled  me  to 
bear  my  not  over-fortunate  life  with  a  certain  de- 
gree of  courage.  I  say  a  man  or  a  woman  who 
possesses  the  power  to  bear  with  courage  the  hard- 
ness of  their  individual  lots  is  fully  as  richly 
endowed  by  fate  as  those  men  and  women  who 
have  their  hearts'  desires  in  the  way  of  fortune, 
love,  success,  fame,  or  whatever  it  may  be.  To 
me  now,  as  always,  love  seems  the  supreme  joy ; 
and  yet  not  even  for  love  would  I  exchange  the 
power  to  endure  which,  to  some  extent  at  least,  is 
mine.  I  can  imagine  that  the  same  life  might 
contain  both, —  the  perfect  good  of  endurance  and 
the  perfect  joy  of  love ;  but,  to  be  complete,  the 
endurance  should  come  first.  Men  and  women 
would  be  unworthy  to  have  love  who  could  not  do 
without  it,  and  do  without  it  resolutely  and  cheer- 
fully. If,  as  I  say,  endurance  could  come  first, 
and,  after  one  had  given  proof  to  one's  self  and 
the  world  of  a  brave  and  patient  power  to  endure, 
love  could  come  then,  the  humanity  that  admits 


290  STRUAN 

of  such  a  state  need  make  no  weak  complaints  of 
mortality  and  sickness  and  such  minor  things. 
Now,  since  I  deliberately  make  this  my  choice, 
since  I  prefer  as  my  gift  from  Fate,  or  Providence, 
the  power  to  renounce  and  to  endure  in  a  spirit 
that  shall  add  to  the  great  courage-store  of  life 
for  those  about  me  and  after  me  to  draw  upon,  I 
don't  make  any  weak  complaining  that  joy  has 
been  denied  me.  Had  I  been  given  the  power  to 
choose,  I  should  have  taken  endurance  rather  than 
joy."  He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  went  on  : 

"  Since  I  have  made  my  position  plain  to  you, 
you  will  not  let  your  kind  heart  pity  me  more 
than  it  need  when  I  tell  you  something  of  the  life 
I  have  lived  outside  your  knowledge." 

He  paused.  Millicent  did  not  speak;  but  he 
got  his  answer  from  her  eyes,  which  were  intent 
with  interest  and  sympathy. 

"  I  married  at  twenty-three,"  he  said,  speaking 
rapidly  as  if  he  were  anxious  to  be  through  with 
his  task.  "  You  already  know  something  of 
Leonard's  poor  mother  and  her  invalid  life.  It 
was  never  a  real  union  at  all.  We  spent  a  few 
wretched  years  trying  to  reconcile  our  utterly  un- 
reconcilable  natures,  and  then  we  gave  it  up.  I 
think  she  did  her  best,  and  that  she  had  some 
affection  for  me ;  but  I  saw  from  the  day  that  I 


STRUAN  291 

married  her  that  she  was  incapable  of  loving  me 
as  a  wife  should  love  her  husband.  Her  coldness 
drove  me  wild  ;  and  for  many  months  the  whole 
universe  seemed  to  be  upset,  and  love  above  all 
things  seemed  a  madness  and  a  delusion.  Gradu- 
ally, I  found  my  bearings  again,  and  saw  that  it 
was  not  love  and  marriage  in  themselves  that  were 
wrong,  but  only  as  they  existed  in  my  own  case. 
For  a  long  time  I  staggered  on  under  the  weight 
of  a  marriage  that  was  a  mere  pretence ;  and  then 
I  spoke  out  plainly,  and  we  agreed  to  live  apart. 
This  for  many  years  we  did.  I  believe  I  did  my 
best  for  her;  and  Leonard,  who  knows  all,  was 
satisfied." 

"  Satisfied  ?  "  she  said.  "  Leonard  has  talked 
to  me  freely  about  it.  That  word  is  far  too  little 
for  what  he  feels  about  your  course." 

"  Leonard's  judgment  is  partial,"  he  said  ;  "but 
I  did  accept  the  undeniably  hard  conditions  of  my 
life,  with  no  thought  of  doing  anything  but  bear- 
ing them.  I  had  grown  entirely  accustomed  to 
endurance,  when  death  made  me  free.  I  had, 
however,  no  idea  of  marriage  again  until  within 
a  year  conditions  arose  which  caused  me  to  marry 
suddenly.  You  have  never  seen  my  wife,  and 
I  do  not  know  what  Leonard  may  have  told  you 
of  her.  I  am  anxious  that  you  shall  know  her 


292  STRUAN 

some  time,  and  she  you.  At  present  she  is  visit- 
ing relatives  in  the  West." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  Leonard  told  me,"  she  said 
gently. 

"She  is  very  young,"  he  went  on, —  "  scarcely 
more  than  Leonard's  age,  and  comes  of  simple 
country  people  without  importance  or  position  of 
any  kind.  She  had  a  pretty  voice,  and  wanted  to 
go  on  the  stage ;  and  she  came  to  New  York  in 
order  to  take  some  lessons  from  me.  But  I  dis- 
couraged her.  I  saw  that  she  was  not  only  coun- 
try-bred and  ignorant  of  the  world,  but  that  she 
had  the  passionate,  wild  nature  of  a  little  savage, 
and  absolutely  no  restraints  in  the  way  of  family 
influence,  conventional  usage,  or  even  self-protec- 
tion. Indeed,  it  was  her  freedom  and  impulsive- 
ness and  her  purity  and  honest  nature,  so  marked 
in  contrast  to  the  cold  prudishness  of  the  over- 
civilized  women  of  to-day,  that  constituted  her 
powerful  charm  for  me.  I  felt  it  without  know- 
ing that  I  felt  it,  until,  by  some  chance,  inevitable 
between  two  such  natures  as  hers  and  mine,  the 
fact  was  revealed  to  us  both ;  and  I  found  that  the 
feeling  existed  on  her  part  as  well  as  mine.  She 
had  all  the  fire  and  nature  in  her  that  I  had 
missed  so  long,  and  I  soon  felt  that  the  love  which 
we  had  betrayed  for  each  other  made  a  demand 


STRUAN  293 

upon  me  which  I  could  only  discharge  by  marry- 
ing her.  I  considered,  hesitated,  and  yielded, — 
not  wholly  through  weakness.  I  do  not  expect 
others  to  believe  it,  but  I  dare  to  tell  you  that  I 
agreed  to  the  marriage  as  much  for  her  sake  as  my 
own.  She  is  a  little,  youthful,  inexperienced 
creature,  who  does  not  often  have  a  serious 
thought,  who  is,  as  she  frankly  owns,  unintellect- 
ual,  even  uneducated,  both  in  mind  and  manners ; 
but  she  gave  herself  to  me  nobly  and  generously, 
in  the  very  flower  of  her  youth  and  beauty,  and 
for  my  sake  she  made  the  great  sacrifice  of  giving 
up  her  stage  career, —  a  thing  on  which  her  heart 
was  set." 

When  he  looked  at  Millicent,  he  expected  to 
see  on  her  face  some  reflection  of  his  own  fervor ; 
but  she  met  his  eyes  a  little  coldly. 

"  It  speaks  badly  for  women,  or  rather  for  your 
opinion  of  them,"  she  said,  "  that  you  should  be 
surprised  that  a  woman  should  willingly  make 
some  small  sacrifice  for  love.  Besides,  what  was 
a  stage  career  to  this  girl,  compared  to  being  the 
wife  of  Lucien  Struan,  even  if  she  had  not  loved 
you,  as  it's  to  be  supposed  she  did  !  And  you 
call  that  sacrifice  !  How  can  women  be  anything 
but  small  and  narrow,  when  they  are  not  believed 
in  ? " 


294  STRUAN 

When  she  looked  at  Struan,  as  she  ended,  she 
saw  that  he  was  moved  by  some  inward  feeling  so 
strong  that  it  prevented  his  speaking  for  a  moment. 
Presently  he  said  : 

u  You  know  very  little  about  me,  if  you  think 
that  I  am  one  of  those  who  disbelieve  in  woman. 
That  is  the  deepest  and  most  sacred  belief  of  my 
life.  I  will  not  say  that  I  have  kept  it  always 
clear  and  unsullied.  But  what  I  will  say  is  that, 
as  often  as  I  have  strayed  away  from  it,  I  have 
come  back,  in  humiliation  for  my  want  of  faith. 
I  believe  in  women  in  every  way.  So  strong  is 
this  belief  that,  if  I  thought  that  voting  and  hold- 
ing office  would  result  in  the  real  freedom  of 
women  and  the  grand  consummation  of  the  pre- 
dominance of  the  woman-spirit  in  the  world,  I 
would  fight  for  their  suffrage.  The  man-spirit  has 
ruled  long  enough.  Its  influence  has  been  tested, 
and  the  world  is  a  bad  world  yet.  We  have 
waited  long  enough  to  see  if  '  out  of  the  strong 
would  come  forth  sweetness,'  and  it  has  not  come. 
Let  us  see  now  if  out  of  the  sweet  will  not  come 
forth  strength !  The  world  has  vital  need  of 
both.  It  can  do  without  one  as  little  as  without 
the  other.  I  believe  in  progressive  dispensations ; 
and,  according  to  that  theory,  I  believe  that  the 
world  should  grow  out  of  the  man-spirit  upward 


STRUAN  295 

to  the  woman-spirit.  If  we  begin  at  a  point 
where  barbarism  makes  brute  force  and  physical 
courage  the  highest  virtues,  then,  when  we  shall 
have  progressed  upward,  let  our  higher  natures 
have  what  they  demand, —  purity,  sweetness,  kind- 
ness, faithfulness,  gentleness,  modesty,  patience, 
fortitude,  meekness  —  all  that  is  found  in  what 
is  called  *  the  womanly.'  As  surely  as  spirit  is 
higher  than  flesh,  just  so  surely  is  woman  higher 
than  man.  But  don't  misunderstand  me  in  this," 
he  broke  off  with  a  sudden  energy  of  protest. 
"  Don't  suppose,  when  I  make  this  distinction  of 
spirit  and  flesh,  that  I  put  under  the  latter  head 
that  grand  spiritual  essence  of  pure  human  pas- 
sion. No  a  thousand  times  !  It  is  here  that  I 
find  woman's  greatest  mission, —  to  teach  men 
how  to  love,  to  spiritualize  and  intellectualize  their 
coarser  natures,  to  kill  sensuality,  and  to  raise 
pure  passion  to  its  true  place  and  stamp  it  with 
the  beauty  of  holiness.  If  the  world  is  out  of 
joint,  it  is  because  the  masculine  has  still  the  pre- 
dominance, and  because  we  allow  ourselves  to  be 
governed  by  the  rule  of  force,  like  the  savage. 
But  for  one  influence,  which  came  as  the  Light 
of  the  World,  and  both  by  teaching  and  example 
leavened  the  lump  with  a  little  of  the  leaven  of 
the  womanly,  it  seems  likely  that  our  race  would 


296  STRUAN 

have  become  by  this  time  the  merely  brutal.  It 
is  this  that  men  worship  in  Christ,  as  much  as 
his  supremacy  of  intellect  and  character.  Some 
writer  has  suggested  the  idea  that  it  is  this  —  our 
need  of  the  womanly  to  worship  —  which  has 
driven  such  hosts  of  human  beings  into  Mari- 
olatry." 

Millicent  listened  to  him,  profoundly  moved. 
His  face  was  wonderful.  She  recalled  his  having 
told  her  once  that  he  always  congratulated  himself 
that,  in  leading  an  orchestra,  he  stood  with  his 
back  to  the  audience,  as,  when  greatly  moved  by 
music  or  any  strong  emotion,  he  felt  that  his  face 
betrayed  too  much.  She  felt  that  he  trusted  her, 
—  that  he  made  no  effort  to  wear  a  mask  in  her 
presence ;  and,  as  they  sat  and  looked  at  each 
other,  she  knew  that  it  was  by  his  consent  that 
she  read  his  very  soul. 

Every  trace  of  the  coquetry  which  she  had  felt 
a  little  while  ago  was  now  gone,  and  her  mood 
was  as  serious  as  his.  A  sadness  that  seemed  as 
if  it  would  overwhelm  her  had  taken  possession 
of  her  heart. 

Silence  had  fallen  between  them.  It  was  filled, 
to  each,  with  a  sense  of  nearness.  Millicent 
sat  with  her  head  dropped  upon  her  hand,  her 
elbow  on  the  arm  of  her  chair.  Once,  and  then 


STRUAN  297 

again,  she  looked  up,  to  find  his  eyes  fixed  on  her 
with  a  gaze  that  made  her  feel  that  her  heart  was 
bared  before  him.  Struan  also  had  this  feeling. 
He  saw  no  reason  to  conceal  from  her  the  truth 
about  himself.  Why  should  he  ?  She  already 
knew.  Her  knowledge  of  him,  of  his  essential 
egoy  made  clear  to  her  his  feelings  in  the  present 
time  of  his  life. 

After  a  long  silence  he  began  again. 

"  I  have  a  supreme  object  and  desire  in  my  life, 
and  I  want  your  aid  to  accomplish  it.  You  well 
understand  that  it  is  not  my  own  happiness.  You 
understand,  also,  I  imagine,  what  it  is.  Leonard 
I  feel  safe  about,  with  your  help  and  watchfulness 
over  him.  My  work,  too, —  after  the  success  of 
the  festival, —  seems  now  on  a  secure  basis.  My 
object  is  to  make  Jenny  happy, —  to  comfort, 
brighten,  sustain  her,  to  atone  for  any  uncon- 
scious wrong  I  may  have  done  her  in  making  her 
my  wife.  If  she  were "-  —  he  paused  as  if  un- 
willing to  utter  the  word,  and  then,  not  finding  a 
better,  said  • — "  different  (I  don't  mean  that  I  wish 
her  changed  except  in  some  subtle  way  that  would 
put  us  more  on  a  level),  the  problem  would  not  be 
so  difficult.  Ah,  Millicent,  I  often  feel  that  I 
wronged  her  youth  in  marrying  her  !  I  want  you 
to  see  and  know  her.  I  have  wanted  this  all 


298  STRUAN 

along  ;  but  it  seemed  best  to  wait  until  I  could  give 
you  some  insight  into  the  position  in  which  she  is 
placed,  and  her  attitude  and  feelings.  I  did  ask 
her  to  come  with  me  to  call  on  you,  but  she 
frankly  refused.  She  is  the  soul  of  honesty ;  and 
she  said  I  might  as  well  recognize  the  fact  that 
she  was  not  of  your  sort, —  that  her  intercourse 
with  Len  had  settled  the  matter.  He  has  been  all 
that  I  could  wish  in  his  bearing  to  her,  and  made 
every  effort  to  be  friendly  and  familiar;  but  that 
it  was  an  effort  she  has  perceived  and  resented. 
She  does  not  blame  Len,  but  she  avoids  him. 
His  presence  gives  her  a  sense  of  constraint  which 
is  most  unpleasant  and  unusual,  for  she  has  been 
accustomed  to  being  first  in  the  society  which  she 
has  had  heretofore.  With  me  she  did  not  have 
that  feeling,  because  love  is  the  great  leveller ;  and 
we  truly  loved  each  other.  Besides,  she  is  right 
in  a  way.  You  and  Len  are  more  of  your  class 
than  I  am.  It  could  not  possibly  be  otherwise. 
I  have  been,  half  my  life,  mixing  with  people  of 
all  sorts  ;  and  I  have  no  particular  class.  But,  in 
spite  of  all  this,  Millicent,  I  want  you  to  know 
my  wife.  You  will  be  able  to  overcome  this  feel- 
ing in  her,  to  do  away  with  this  barrier.  I  feel 
a  tremendous  hope  that  you  will  help  us  both  to 
a  better  happiness  and  mutual  comprehension  than 


STRUAN  299 

we  have  ever  known.  She  has  never  seen  a 
woman  like  you !  Ah,  my  lovely  friend  and 
cousin,  who  has  ?  And  if  you  will  care  for  her 
a  little,  if  you  will  sympathize  with  her  and  help 
her,  and  by  your  womanly  knowledge  help  me  to 
be  to  her  what  she  needs,  you  will  be  giving  me 
the  greatest  benefit  that  I  can  get  from  friend  or 
woman.  I  crave  your  friendship  for  my  wife,  my 
friend.  She  has  never  had  such  an  opportunity 
as  a  friendship  with  you  will  be.  I  think  she  will 
know  how  to  appreciate  it.  I  think  it  will  show 
her  the  contrast  with  the  women  who  have  been 
her  friends  until  now.  How  could  she  help  it, 
poor  child  !  They  were  the  best  she  ever  knew." 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  said  Millicent.  "  I  will 
make  it,  for  the  present,  the  object  of  my  life,  too, 
to  make  her  happy,  if  I  can  be  an  instrument  to 
that  end.  O  Lucien,  I  thank  you  for  showing 
me  this  trust.  If  she  will  only  love  me,  perhaps 
I  can  do  much." 

Poor  Millicent !  She  said  these  brave  words 
with  a  heavy  heart.  She  knew  that  she  would 
keep  the  pledge,  and  do  her  best ;  but  at  the  same 
time  she  felt  come  over  her  a  great  sense  of 
weariness.  How  long  must  she  go  on  helping 
others  to  a  happiness  which  no  one  helped  her  to, 
—  trying  to  fill  the  hearts  of  others  while  her  own 


300  STRUAN 

heart  remained  empty,  to  feed  the  souls  of  others 
while  hers  starved  ? 

She  stifled  back  these  feelings,  though,  and  said 
gently  : 

"  You  think  she  is  not  happy  ?  " 

"  She  is  too  brave  to  tell  me  so,  but  I  can 
feel  it.  If  you  could  see  her !  She  is  a  child 
to  you  and  me, —  the  age  of  Len  in  years,  and 
younger  far  in  nature.  Often  I  feel,  with  a  sharp 
pang,  that  perhaps  a  younger  man  might  have 
made  her  happy.  God  knows  !  I  want  to  find 
the  key  to  it  all,  if  I  can.  If  she  loved  books,  if 
she  could  interest  herself  in  my  pursuits,  so  that  I 
could  be  more  of  a  companion  to  her !  But  she 
—  poor  little  heart !  —  had  a  youth  and  early  train- 
ing which  cut  her  ofF  from  all  intellectual  study 
and  association,  and  the  taste  for  it  is  not  there. 
Millicent,  I  sometimes  fear  that  the  thought  that 
I  wronged  that  generous  soul  in  marrying  her  will 
be  the  sorrow  of  my  future  life.  I  even  fear  — 
O  God,  how  good  it  is  to  pour  into  another  human 
heart  the  sadness  and  the  fears  so  long  shut  close 
in  mine  !  "  He  was  silent  a  moment,  then  went 
on  :  "I  even  fear  that  what  I  said  just  now  about 
marrying  her  as  much  for  her  sake  as  for  my  own 
may  be  a  self-deception,  for  I  was  a  coward  when  I 
did  it.  I  was  worn  out  with  wanting,  with  try- 


STRUAN  301 

ing  to  still  what  was  the  supreme  craving  of  my 
nature, —  the  craving  for  the  human  complement 
of  myself.  I  knew  that  in  this  marriage  I  gave 
up  the  idea  of  intellectual  companionship  and 
equality,  which  could  only  have  been  found  in  a 
woman  whose  tastes  and  ideas  were  similar  to  my 
own.  This  thought  did  stand  up  to  be  wrestled 
with,  but  I  put  it  down  with  the  thought  of 
Jenny's  love  for  me  and  need  of  me  ;  and  I  knew 
that,  if  love  and  tenderness  could  make  her  happy, 
these  should  never  lack.  They  never  have  and 
never  shall,  but  whether  they  are  enough  is  the 
thought  that  has  begun  to  trouble  me  now." 

Millicent  looked  at  him  with  a  deep  and  search- 
ing sympathy. 

"  You  have  not  told  me  any  positive  reason 
that  you  have  for  believing  that  she  is  not  satis- 
fied," she  said.  "  Have  you  any  tangible  one  ?  " 

"  A  little  while  ago  I  should  have  answered 
no,"  he  said.  "  Now  I  must  say  yes.  I  have  long 
felt  vaguely  that  her  life  was  wearisome  to  her; 
but  since  she  went  away  I  have  had  a  letter  from 
her,  asking  if  I  would  seriously  object  to  her  car- 
rying out  her  old  idea  of  going  on  the  stage.  I 
have  given  her  lessons  constantly,  and  she  has 
trained  and  developed  her  voice  so  that  she  could, 
with  her  decidedly  pretty  face  and  figure,  make 


302  STRUAN 

an  undoubted  success  in  such  a  career  j  but  I  did 
not  know  she  still  clung  to  the  idea,  and  it  was  a 
blow  to  me  to  find  out  that  she  did." 

"  What  did  you  answer  her  ?  " 

"  I  wrote  her  that  she  was  always  free  to  do  as 
she  chose.  I  have  an  abhorrence  of  the  marriage 
which  orders  and  coerces.  At  the  same  time  I 
told  her  that  it  would  grieve  me  deeply  to  see 
her  in  the  environment  that  I  knew  so  well  and 
that  she  was  so  ignorant  of;  and  I  begged  her 
to  question  her  own  heart,  and  tell  me  what  her 
motive  was.  She  has  all  the  money  that  she 
wants,  and  it  cannot  be  that.  I  ended  by  making 
it  the  appeal  of  love  that  she  would  not  leave  me, 
even  temporarily,  for  a  life  which  I  should  so 
strongly  deprecate  and  object  to  for  her.  I  am 
waiting  now  for  her  answer,  and  I  cannot  doubt 
that  she  will  respect  my  wish  and  respond  to  my 
appeal.  When  she  comes  back,  I  will  make  a 
fresh  endeavor  to  give  interest  and  pleasure  to 
her  life ;  and  now,  with  you  to  help  me  with  a 
woman's  tact  and  insight,  I  have  a  better  chance 
than  ever  before  to  succeed." 

"  I  will  help  you  with  all  my  heart  and  soul," 
she  said  in  her  sweet  and  thrilling  voice.  She 
had  got  the  better  of  her  own  selfish  longings, 
and  said  these  words  with  deep  sincerity.  "  I  hope 


STRUAN  303 

she  will  not  stay  away  too  long.  My  aunt  has 
written  that  she  is  thinking  of  a  journey  to  the 
East ;  and,  if  she  goes,  I  am  obliged  to  join  her, 
and  go  with  her.  She  is  not  strong  in  health,  and 
she  could  not  go  without  me.  A  telegram  might 
summon  me  to  her  at  very  short  notice,  so  I 
cannot  make  any  future  plans  of  my  own.  But, 
if  I  can  help  you  in  this  way,  I  shall  be  glad  and 
thankful.  I  would  gladly  stay  to  do  it,  but  my 
aunt's  claim  upon  me  is  the  one  I  cannot  ignore." 

Struan  looked  at  her  steadily  in  the  quiet  even- 
ing light  which  was  beginning  to  spread  its  gloom 
throughout  the  room. 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  your  going  away  so 
soon,"  he  said.  "You  seem  to  have  only  just 
risen  on  the  horizon.  I  find  myself  unprepared 
for  such  a  possibility.  O  Millicent,  it  is  good  to 
have  known  you,"  he  added  with  a  deep  indrawn 
sigh.  "  It  is  good  to  have  looked  on  such  a  pa- 
tient life.  I  have  been  impatient  in  mine,  and  I 
am  punished.  Not  only  have  I  failed  to  realize  the 
magnificent  dream  of  marriage  which  I  once  had, 
but  I  have  a  harder  consciousness  than  that  to 
bear  about  with  me.  I  have  stood  in  the  way  of 
the  realization  of  a  dream  of  marriage  in  another 
^fe,  which,  though  different  from  my  ideal,  might 
yet  have  made  the  happiness  of  two  other  people. 


304  STRUAN 

My  punishment  is  right,  but  it  is  hard.  What 
I  cannot  understand,  what  is  so  terrible  to  me,  is 
that  she  should  have  to  suffer.  She  was  so  young 
and  ignorant  that  I  should  have  judged  for  her. 
It  was  my  weakness  that  kept  me  from  seeing, 
and  yet  it  was  weakness  which  came  from  strength, 
from  the  mightiness  of  this  need  of  love  that  is  in 
my  nature.  It  has  been  denied  and  disappointed 
all  my  life,  but  it  springs  up  stronger  after  each 
defeat.  Never  has  it  been  so  vigorous  and  so 
dominating  as  it  is  now,  and  never  has  my  life 
seemed  more  bereft." 

Millicent's  eyes  kindled  with  a  beautiful,  tender 
smile. 

"  Lucien,"  she  said,  "  perhaps  I  can  comfort 
you,  dear  cousin  and  dear  friend.  You  blame 
your  lack  of  patience  for  what  you  feel  to-day ; 
but  I  can  prove  to  you,  perhaps,  that  you  are 
wrong  in  this.  You  praise  the  patience  of  my 
life,  and  yet  the  same  unrest  and  lack  are  mine. 
Do  you  imagine  it  is  any  comfort  to  me  to  say 
now  :  c  At  least,  my  skirts  are  clean.  I  have  been 
prudent  and  wise,  and  have  taken  care  that  no 
troublesome  remorse  should  mar  my  self-com- 
placency '  ?  I  can  assure  you  there  seems  no 
nobleness  and  no  comfort  in  that  to  me.  I  have 
once  or  twice  been  near  to  a  mistaken  marriage 


STRUAN  305 

myself,  but  the  elements  which  prevailed  with  you 
were  lacking  with  me.  You  were  moved  by  the 
fear  of  paining  and  depriving  another  soul.  I  was 
egotistical,  and  considered  myself  first.  I  de- 
clined to  take  one  atom  less  than  my  ideal  for  fear 
that  afterward  it  might  be  my  fate  to  meet  with 
a  man  who  was  all  I  had  desired,  and  to  see  my 
mistake  too  late.  Well,"  she  added  after  a 
pause,  "  I  have  been  patient,  and  waited.  I  am 
forty  years  old ;  and  my  life  is,  as  you  see  it, 
empty.  Not  that  I  am  unable  to  take  pleasure  in 
much  that  comes,  and  sometimes  I  can  give  help 
to  others  ;  and  that  is  not  only  comfort,  but  joy. 
Still,  I  am  certain  of  this :  that  there  is  abso- 
lutely no  compensation  in  life  for  a  woman  who 
misses  love.  There  is  work  and  the  pleasure  that 
that  brings,  and  there  is  much  enjoyment  in  grati- 
fying the  intellectual  tastes.  Then,  too,  there  is 
that  grand  comfort  which  comes  from  the  con- 
sciousness of  power  to  endure,  which  we  were 
speaking  of  just  now.  All  these  there  are  which 
make  life  abundantly  worth  living  ;  but  compen- 
sation for  the  lack  of  love,  there  is  none.  I  have 
known  it  always,  and  I  have  been  stronger  for  the 
knowledge." 

Struan  did  not  answer. 

"  An  old  maid  !  "  she  said  with  a  sudden  grimace 


306  STRUAN 

and  smile.  "  I  wonder  why  it  is  that  not  only  the 
name,  but  the  idea,  has  something  funny  in  it.  It 
has  been  said  that  it  takes  a  superior  woman  to 
make  an  old  maid,  for  almost  every  woman  must 
have  at  least  one  opportunity  to  escape  the  ob- 
loquy of  it.  Bless  their  dear  absurd  hearts,  how 
I  yearn  over  the  entire  species  !  How  often  I 
have  watched  a  batch  of  these  dear  women  patter- 
ing about  in  picture  galleries  abroad,  studying 
their  Baedekers,  and  airing  their  smattering  of  for- 
eign tongues,  and  trying  so  bravely  to  pad  out 
their  collapsing  lives  !  And  then,  again,  to  see 
them  accentuating  the  emptiness  of  a  great  city 
church  at  an  early  service,  where  so  often  I  have 
made  one  of  them,  seeking  the  slaking  of  soul- 
thirst,  the  comfort  for  loss,  the  support  through 
trial,  which,  I  believe,  women  feel  more  than  men  ! 
Men  are  stronger  than  women,  or  weaker,  I  don't 
know  which  !  They  are  bolder  in  getting  what 
they  want ;  but  perhaps  it  is  braver  to  renounce, 
as  women  do.  Oh,  it's  all  a  mystery  ;  and  I  don't 
know  what  to  make  of  it.  I  only  know  that  there 
is  great  comfort  in  having  got  to  a  place  in  life 
where  one  accepts  mystery,  and  one  is  satisfied  to 
do  the  best  one  can,  without  asking  to  see  any- 
thing clearly,  except  that  it  is  right  to  be  good. 
I  might  be  asked  to  define  what  I  mean  by  right 


STRUAN  307 

and  good  ;  but  I  have  a  strong  conviction  that  no 
man  or  woman  need  be  in  doubt  about  that,  if 
they  honestly  question  their  own  souls.  It  must 
be  right  to  consider  others  more  than  ourselves. 
It  must  be  wrong  to  take  happiness  at  the  cost  of 
pain  to  others.  It  must  be  right  to  be  faithful  to 
our  obligations,  and  wrong  to  try  to  shirk  their 
consequences.  A  few  plain  leadings  such  as  these 
all  souls  are  given,  and  they  are  enough.  And,  as 
for  the  old  maids  that  I  was  talking  about  before 
I  got  off  on  this  moralizing  track,  I  have  a  feeling 
for  them  that  makes  me  wish  that  I  could  take 
them  all  to  my  heart,  and  hide  their  eyes  on  my 
breast,  so  that  they  might  not  see  the  smiles  of 
the  world  at  their  expense, —  nor  my  own  smile 
over  the  tops  of  their  aggregate  heads,  either  !  " 

As  she  smiled  in  reality,  Struan  said  with  a 
reflection  of  her  smile  : 

"  Are  you  an  old  maid,  Millicent  ?  There  is 
something  ridiculous  in  the  term  as  applied  to 
you." 

"  Yes,  isn't  there  ?  I  can  see  it  myself.  Oh, 
dear,  how  long,  I  wonder  ?  Twice  forty  is  eighty. 
I  can't  live  to  be  over  eighty,  in  all  conscience. 
My  long  journey  must  be  certainly  half  done." 

"  Are  you  tired  of  it  ?  " 

"  Not    usually.      At     this     moment,    yes,    pro- 


STRUAN 

foundly.  I'd  let  it  go  without  a  qualm  just  now. 
Don't  let  that  make  you  uneasy,  however.  To- 
morrow morning  I'll  probably  value  it  above 
rubies." 

He  looked  at  her  fixedly. 

"  The  very  fulness  of  life  and  love  may  come 
to  you  yet,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  I  can  do  without  it.  Never  mind  me," 
she  said  with  a  light  laugh.  u  I'm  not  such  a 
weakling  that  I  can't  pick  up  my  burden,  and 
trundle  along  with  the  procession.  You  and  I, 
remember,  have  been  given  the  gift  which  we 
both  think  equal  to  the  best, —  the  power  to  en- 
dure. I'm  not  dissatisfied  with  life,  except  in 
weak  moments  when  I  choose  to  let  myself  give 
way ;  and  then  I  always  know  that  I'll  come  to 
very  soon." 

"  No,  you  are  brave.  I  know  that ;  but  I  can 
see  no  reason  why,  after  renunciation,  you  may 
not  have  joy." 

Millicent  did  not  answer  except  by  a  disbeliev- 
ing head-shake.  She  sat  silent  a  moment.  Then, 
noticing  that  the  shadows  had  deepened  in  the 
room,  she  stood  up. 

"  It  will  soon  be  time  for  Bonnemaman's  early 
Sunday  tea,"  she  said.  "  We  must  go  and  get 
ready  for  it," 


STRUAN  309 

He  rose  also  ;  and  they  stood  facing  each  other, 
their  eyes  penetrating  the  still  gloom. 

"  Millicent,"  he  said,  "  your  words  this  after- 
noon have  comforted  my  very  soul  with  a  comfort 
far  removed  from  thoughts  of  self.  A  strange 
foreboding  overhangs  me  now, —  a  sort  of  dread 
of  more  pain  to  come.  You  have  opened  to  me 
a  larger  view  of  life  beyond  my  own.  You  have 
helped  me  more  than  you  dream  of." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  and  Millicent  put  hers 
into  it.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  touched  her 
hand,  except  in  formal  greeting  or  farewell ;  and 
its  brief  clasp  now  was  as  firm  and  cheering  as 
that  of  a  friendly  boy. 


XXIV 

SEVERAL   days  went  by,  marked  chiefly  by 
progress  on  the  picture.     Millicent  worked 
hard  during  the  morning  hours,  but  the  sit- 
tings  were    usually  almost   silent.      They  seemed 
not  to  have  a  great  deal  to  say  to  each  other ;  and 
Millicent,  at   her   easel,  was   always   an  absorbed 
worker. 

In  the  afternoons  they  usually  had  visitors. 
Old  friends,  whom  Millicent  had  known  abroad, 
and  new  ones,  of  her  grandmother's  circle,  took  to 
driving  out  and  having  tea  with  them. 

Miss  Evleth  was  disposed  to  show  some  im- 
patience of  these  guests,  until  she  found  that  it 
gave  her  an  opportunity  of  watching  Struan  in  his 
attitude  and  intercourse  with  others. 

There  was  no  one  he  could  not  talk  to  with 
an  air  of  interest,  no  subject  he  could  not  il- 
lumine; and  she  allowed  herself  to  yield  to  the 
impulse  of  silence  that  came  to  her,  as  she 
watched  and  listened  to  him.  Her  reputation  as 
an  agreeable  talker  suffered  from  it,  but  nothing 
was  more  indifferent  to  Millicent  now  than  the 
maintenance  of  that  reputation. 
310 


STRUAN  311 

Struan's  week  of  holiday,  during  which  he  had 
not  even  once  gone  into  town,  was  nearly  over. 
The  portrait,  which  aimed  at  being  nothing  more 
than  an  impression,  was  carried  about  as  far  as  its 
author  felt  that  she  could  go. 

One  evening,  about  ten,  when  Mrs.  Milner 
had  gone  off  to  bed,  Struan  and  Millicent  were 
in  the  drawing-room  alone.  He  had  been  play- 
ing to  her,  and  the  candles  were  lighted  on 
the  piano.  Otherwise,  the  large  room  was  in 
shadow.  Struan  was  still  seated  on  the  piano- 
stool,  and  Millicent  was  in  a  large  chair  near  by, 
when  a  servant  brought  the  evening  mail,  just 
out  from  town. 

Most  of  the  letters  were  for  Struan,  but  there 
was  one  for  Millicent  from  Leonard.  She  tore  it 
open  eagerly  and  read  it  through,  while  Struan  oc- 
cupied himself  with  his  own  letters. 

"  What  a  wonderful  being  Leonard  is  !  "  she 
said  presently,  with  enthusiasm.  "  How  intensely 
he  feels !  How  loyally  he  loves !  And  how 
wildly  he  idealizes !  Do  read  this,"  she  added, 
holding  out  the  letter  to  him.  "  Read  it  aloud.  I 
can  stand  anything  from  Len  ;  and  that  is  so  sweet, 
and  so  like  his  very  self." 

Struan  read  it  in  his  deep-toned  voice  that  al- 
ways sounded  to  Millicent  as  if  it  were  a  strain  of 


312  STRUAN 

music  attuned  to  those  orchestral  accompaniments 
that  he  had  so  often  led. 
This  was  the  letter : 

Dearest  Millicent, —  I  have  been  away  nearly  a  week. 
I'll  miss  you  always  just  the  same;  and  I  am  always  your 
own  true  knight,  though  so  unworthy  of  your  love.  How 
I  love  you,  Millicent!  I  can  only  quiver  as  the  ugly  duck- 
ling quivered  when  the  beautiful,  pure  swans  swam  out  to 
greet  him.  I  feel  so  great  and  yet  so  small.  Millicent,  let 
me  tell  you  of  a  thought  I  had  the  other  day,  when  I  was 
in  one  of  my  moods  of  black  wretchedness  that  you  have  so 
often  helped  me  through.  I  was  passionately  praying  to 
God  for  help  (it  was  in  the  dead  of  night),  when  I  seemed 
to  see  a  great  chasm  running  straight  up  in  a  point  and 
reaching  heaven.  From  this  a  light  came  leaping  down  the 
darkness  until  it  touched  the  earth  at  my  feet;  and  a  voice 
said  plainly:  "  You  are  being  tried  to  see  if  you  are  worthy 
of  one  talent  or  of  ten.  Fight  a  brave  fight,  and  you  have 
my  help." 

Of  course,  dearest,  I  did  not  really  see  and  hear  this;  but 
the  sound  was  in  my  ears  from  somewhere,  and  the  thought 
was  printed  on  my  hot  forehead  as  a  kiss  is  sometimes 
pressed  upon  a  man's  head  by  some  dear  and  comforting 
one  in  the  hour  of  trial.  Oh,  what  happiness  it  brought  to 
me!  It  seemed  io  promise  me  that  God  was  going  to  help 
me  to  do  something  great  with  my  life.  I  must  try  to 
remember  what  you  told  me  about  not  flooding  all  the  little 
dykes  and  meadows,  but  going  back  into  the  real  river  and 
flowing  straight  and  strong. 

O  Millicent,  how  you  have  helped  me!  How  I  love 
you!  —  how  I  worship  you!  You  are  like  a  blade  of  pure 


STRUAN  313 

tteel,  so  clean,  so  true,  so  bright,  so  trustworthy,  and  kept 
in  such  a  tender,  lovely  tinted  silk  case  that  little  babies 
may  fondle  it  and  be  as  free  with  it  as  with  the  hands  of 
their  mothers! 

"  There,  that  will  do,"  said  Millicent,  taking 
the  letter  back.  "  That  was  the  part  I  wanted 
you  to  read.  To  me  that  boy  seems  to  have 
something  divine  in  him.  I  feel  that  he  is  to  be 
the  greatest  comfort  of  my  future  life.  You  will 
let  me  have  him  with  me  a  great  deal,  won't  you, 
Lucien  ?  You  will  trust  him  to  me  ?  " 

"  He  is  yours,  and  you  are  his,  by  a  right  too 
high  for  me  to  question,"  Struan  said.  "  But  I 
can  tell  you  this,  in  securing  you  for  his  friend 
and  guide,  he  has  got  what  I  value  for  him  more 
than  anything  else  in  life.  Surely,  you  well  know 
that." 

He  spoke  with  great  earnestness  ;  and  yet  Milli- 
cent became  aware  that  he  was  in  some  way  pre- 
occupied, and  looked  excited.  She  now  observed 
that  he  had  put  down  on  the  piano  the  letter 
which  he  had  read,  and  was  holding  in  his  hand 
one  that  was  unopened. 

Instantly  the  thought  flashed  through  her  whom 
it  was  probably  from,  and  why  he  had  hesitated 
before  opening  it. 

"  I  am  thirsty,"  she  said.  "  I  will  go  and  get 
some  water,  and  leave  you  to  read  your  letter." 


3H  STRUAN 

He  seemed  about  to  protest,  but  then  changed 
his  mind,  and  said  quickly  : 

"  Yes,  go  if  you  like ;  but  promise  to  come 
back.  I  shall  want  you  to  know  the  contents  of 
this  letter.  It  is  from  my  wife." 

Millicent  left  the  room.  As  she  crossed  the 
hall,  she  looked  back,  and  saw  him  tear  the  letter 
open  with  an  eager  decision,  at  variance  with  his 
recent  hesitation. 

She  drank  some  water  from  the  pitcher  in  the 
dining-room  ;  and  then,  going  over  to  the  window, 
she  stood  there,  and  looked  out  into  the  night. 

Over  the  points  of  two  tall  evergreens,  that  rose 
above  a  black  mass  of  shrubbery  like  the  steeples 
of  a  church,  the  full  moon  and  one  great  planet 
blazed  in  the  clear  air.  She  looked  coldly  at  the 
still  moon,  and  then,  with  a  quickening  of  feel- 
ing, at  the  pulsating  star.  She  wondered  why  she 
had  always  loved  the  stars  so  much  better  than  the 
moon.  It  was  almost  as  if  they  were  persons,  and 
the  moon  was  a  thing.  Was  it  because  the  latter 
was  known  to  be  burnt  out,  and  devoid  of  life,  in 
its  brilliant,  cold  placidity,  while  the  former  might 
be  filled  with  a  vivider  life  and  light  than  our 
imaginings  could  picture, —  the  life  that  seemed  to 
quiver  in  that  star  yonder,  like  a  restless  heart  ? 

The  influence  of  those  radiant  lights  above  or 


STRUAN  315 

of  that  struggling  soul  across  the  hall  so  over- 
whelmed her  with  a  sudden  sadness  that  she  felt 
an  impulse  to  be  completely  alone ;  and  she  de- 
cided to  go  and  say  good-night  to  Struan,  and  get 
away  as  quickly  and  as  quietly  as  she  could. 

When  she  returned  to  the  drawing-room,  Struan 
was  still  seated  on  the  piano-stool,  his  body  side- 
ways toward  the  instrument,  and  his  elbow  resting 
on  the  base  of  the  music-rack,  his  head  on  his 
hand.  The  other  hand  lay  on  his  knee,  with  the 
open  letter  in  it,  which  he  had  finished  reading. 
Millicent  saw  that  his  face  was  pale  and  his  eyes 
excited. 

He  turned  as  she  came  in,  and,  sitting  tensely 
upright,  said,  in  a  voice  which  she  knew  it  cost 
him  an  effort  to  control : 

"Something  has  happened,  Millicent, —  some- 
thing that  is  a  severe  blow  to  me.  You  must 
help  me  to  think  what  can  be  done.  Read  this 
letter,  if  you  wouldn't  mind." 

He  gave  her  the  letter,  and  then  went  away  to 
the  other  end  of  the  room,  and  stood  before  the 
window,  looking  out,  in  his  turn,  at  the  moon  and 
the  star. 

But  he  had  not  even  the  consciousness  that  he 
saw  them,  in  the  keen  preoccupation  of  his 
thoughts. 


316  STRUAN 

Millicent,  meanwhile,  was  reading  the  letter. 

The  handwriting  in  itself  was  a  shock  to  her. 
It  was  the  round,  unformed,  uncertain  hand  of 
a  child.  The  very  paper  had  a  significance  of  its 
own.  The  letter  ran  thus  : 

Dear  Struan, —  I  know  you  will  be  awfully  surprised, 
and  I'm  afraid  you'll  be  mad,  too,  when  you  hear  what 
I  have  done  ;  but  it's  done  for  certain,  and  I  hope  you'll 
save  yourself  and  me  a  lot  of  useless  trouble,  and  not 
make  a  fuss  about  it  when  it's  too  late  to  do  any  good. 
The  opportunity  of  my  life  has  come  to  me  here,  and 
I  was  not  going  to  be  such  an  idiot  as  not  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  it.  Now  don't  be  mad,  and  I'll  tell  you  all 
about  it.  Ida  was  going  to  San  Francisco,  and  I  decided 
to  go  with  her  for  a  little  lark;  and,  as  I  was  there  (or  rather 
here),  I  thought  it  would  do  no  harm  to  consult  a  big  man- 
ager, I  happened  to  meet,  about  my  voice.  I  told  him  I 
was  only  considering  the  matter  about  going  on  the  stage, 
and  might  never  do  it  ;  but  he  was  perfectly  lovely,  and 
said  he  would  try  my  voice  at  once.  I  think  it  was  my 
telling  him  that  I  was  a  pupil  of  yours  that  made  him  take 
an  interest,  though  he  told  Ida  before  that  that  I  was 
"a  daisy  from  daisy-land."  Of  course,  you'll  think  this 
a  vulgar  expression;  and  I'm  not  telling  it  out  of  vanity, 
only  you  know  how  important  looks  are  to  a  singer. 

Well,  I  never  hinted  that  you  were  anything  more  to  me 
than  my  teacher;  and  Ida  has  kept  the  secret  faithfully. 
He  didn't  ask  any  troublesome  questions,  as  I  was  afraid 
he  might,  though  you  know  you  can  trust  my  wits.  The 
upshot  was  that  he  heard  me  sing,  and  made  me  a  rattling 


STRUAN  317 

good  offer.  I  had  to  take  it  at  once,  or  let  it  be  given  to 
some  one  else,  which  would  have  broken  my  heart.  Ida 
said  you'd  get  reconciled  when  the  thing  was  done  and 
over, —  that  men  might  talk  forever,  but  they  always  came 
round  in  the  end. 

Well,  I  signed  the  contract,  learned  my  part,  and  I've 
sung  two  nights.  I  tried  to  write  you  sooner,  but  you 
know  what  a  mad  rush  I've  been  in.  I  had  not  only  to 
study  my  part,  but  also  to  get  my  costumes,  which  are 
stunning.  Besides,  I  wanted  to  let'  you  know  that  I  was 
really  a  success.  When  you  read  the  notices  I  enclose,  I 
hope  they  may  reconcile  you.  Now  do  be  reasonable,  and 
write  me  a  nice  letter.  This  engagement  is  only  for  five 
weeks,  and  I  need  not  make  another  until  we  have  talked 
it  over.  But,  honestly,  you  ought  not  to  try  to  keep  me 
from  what  makes  me  so  happy.  I  don't  interfere  with  you, 
and  you  oughtn't  to  interfere  with  me.  I  tell  you  frankly 
that  your  friends  are  not  my  sort.  They  wouldn't  like  me 
any  better  than  I'd  like  them.  Please  don't  think  of  com- 
ing to  see  me.  It  would  only  upset  me.  You  ought  to 
be  satisfied,  as  you've  always  said  you  cared  so  much  for 
me  to  be  happy;  and  I'm  in  such  a  state  of  bliss  now  that  I 
can  hardly  sleep  for  joy.  You  will  see  by  the  cuttings 
I  enclose  that  I've  got  a  new  name,  so  no  one  will  know 
who  I  am.  If  you  could  send  me  a  telegram  to  say  it's  all 
right,  I  think  I  should  like  that  better  than  a  letter,  because, 
if  you  wrote,  you  might  try  to  change  my  mind;  and  you'd 
only  bother  and  distress  me.  Cheer  up  now,  and  go  about 
among  your  friends,  and  be  happy.  I'm  sure  I  don't 
grudge  you  any  pleasure  that  you  care  for,  and  you 
oughtn't  to  grudge  me.  You  ought  to  be  satisfied  to 
know  how  happy  I  am,  Yours  lovingly, 

JENNY. 


STRUAN 

Millicent  folded  the  letter,  and  replaced  it  in  its 
envelope.  As  she  did  so,  she  caught  sight  of  sev- 
eral newspaper  clippings  on  the  floor.  Plainly, 
they  had  not  even  been  read. 

Looking  across  the  room,  she  saw  him  standing 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  the  curtains  pushed 
aside  by  his  elbows,  and  looking  out  into  the 
night.  Her  heart  swelled  with  pity  for  him.  She 
called  his  name,  and  he  turned  and  came  toward 
her.  His  face  looked  haggard  and  almost  old. 

"  Lucien,"  she  said,  as  he  placed  himself  again 
on  the  piano-stool,  "  this  is  very  bitter  to  you.  I 
know  it.  I  will  not  be  so  foolish  as  to  make  light 
of  it.  But  what  will  you  do  about  it,  dear  ?  How 
can  I  help  you  ?  I  am  trying  to  think.  Will 
you  make  any  effort  to  stop  her  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not.  Authority  seems  to  me  the 
last  and  lowest  appeal  between  man  and  wife.  If 
my  wish  was  not  enough,  there  is  nothing  more 
to  be  said.  Neither  shall  I  go  to  see  her,  since 
she  objects  to  it.  What  I  must  do  immediately 
is  to  see  that  she  has  some  friend,  some  older 
woman,  to  be  with  her  all  the  time,  a  woman 
capable  of  taking  care  of  her  health  and  looking 
after  her  conduct,  too.  If  she  errs  in  that,  it  will 
be  through  ignorance ;  but  she  is  heedless  and 
impulsive,  and  doesn't  know  what  it  is  necessary 


STRUAN  319 

for  her  to  do  and  not  to  do.  I  could  never  have 
dreamed  that  this  would  happen.  I  ought  not  to 
have  married  that  young  creature,  whose  youthful 
ardor  I  took  for  a  real  and  enduring  devotion.  I 
ought  not  to  have  silenced  the  inward  monition 
which  told  me  I  was  making  another  mistake. 
My  own  share  of  pain  I  can  bear ;  but  to  have 
for  the  second  time  involved  another  in  such  a 
misfortune  is  hard  —  almost  too  hard.  I  must, 
at  all  costs,  guard  that  young  being  who  so  freely 
trusted  me.  I  will  go  to  town  early  to-morrow, 
and  see  what  can  be  done." 

Millicent  sat  silent  for  some  moments.  Then  : 
"  O  Lucien,"  she  said  wistfully,  "  if  I  could 
only  use  up  all  the  capacity  that  is  in  me  by  giv- 
ing you  some  real  help  now  !  If  I  could  only  be 
freed,  at  a  blow,  from  all  the  superficial  obstacles 
that  stand  in  the  way,  and  have  the  necessary  ob- 
scurity of  name  and  position,  and  have  at  the 
same  time  widowhood  or  matronhood,  or  what- 
ever is  required  to  make  me  the  sort  of  chaperon 
you  want !  You  may  think  I  am  joking ;  but, 
upon  my  honor,  I'd  do  anything  possible  to  be 
able  to  give  real  practical  help  to  you  now.  I 
seem,"  she  said  with  a  sudden  fierceness,  "  to  be 
under  a  sort  of  curse, —  a  curse  of  impotence! 
I  can  never  do  anything.  My  utmost  always 


320  STRUAN 

seems  to  be  to  forbear.  I  have  held  myself  back 
for  some  opportunity  to  do  something  with  my 
life,  but  the  opportunity  never  comes,  and  it  never 
will.  O  Lucien,  you  will  do  me  the  greatest 
benefit  any  human  being  has  ever  done  me  if  you 
will  show  me  how  to  help  you  now." 

He  did  not  speak  at  once.  Turning  full  toward 
her,  he  caught  one  of  his  knees  between  his 
clasped  hands,  throwing  his  body  backward  as  he 
sat  on  the  music-stool ;  and,  with  his  arms 
strained  to  this  tense  position  and  his  keen  eye 
narrowed  to  a  deep  intensity  of  gaze,  he  looked  at 
her.  She  met  his  look  with  earnest  candor. 

"  Millicent,"  he  said,  "  never  have  I  been  more 
unhappy  than  I  am  now.  Never  has  life  seemed 
more  dark  on  eveiy  side.  But  you  and  your 
friendship  pierce  the  gloom  with  the  light  of  a 
fixed  star.  The  knowledge  of  you  now  is  all  I 
have  to  save  me  from  despair." 

Millicent's  eyes  filled. 

"  O  Lucien,"  she  said,  "  trust  God.  Have 
hope." 

"  I  can  trust  him  better  because  he  has  testified 
to  me  of  his  existence  by  you.  I  can  hope,  too, 
since  I  know  that  such  a  soul  as  yours  lives  in  a 
human  body.  Without  this  knowledge  men  and 
women  would  seem  to  me  now  completely  base, 


STRUAN  321 

and  their  unworthiness  of  a  life  to  come  would 
make  the  thought  of  that  life  seem  an  absurdity. 
How  can  you  say,  then,  that  you  have  not  helped 
me  ?  You  don't  believe  that  now  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  very  pale,  and  speaking  with  a 
sort  of  breathlessness.  "  I  believe  what  you  say, 
and  it  frightens  me.  O  Lucien,  perhaps,  if  you 
knew  my  whole  life  better,  you  would  change  your 
mind  about  me.  I  am  as  little  as  possible  like  a 
fixed  and  always  clearly  shining  star.  There  have 
been  times  when  evil  has  almost  conquered  good 
in  me, —  when  I  have  been  so  lost  in  the  clouds 
of  selfishness  and  wilfulness  that  no  human  being 

D 

could  have  got  a  ray  of  light  from  me.  Don't,  I 
implore  you,  think  me  better  than  I  am.  There 
have  been  times  in  my  life  which  I  cannot  bear 
the  thought  of  your  eyes  upon." 

"  I  know  it.  It  is  clearly  revealed  to  me.  The 
body  of  Moses  is  in  your  beautiful  face,  and  I  see 
the  traces  of  the  struggle  between  God  and  the 
devil.  But  don't  you  see,  can't  you  understand, 
how  that  endears  you  to  me  ?  I  have  learned  this 
much  from  life, —  to  count  mere  personal  rectitude 
very  little.  It  may  save  one's  own  soul  as  it 
saves  one's  body ;  but  what  of  the  souls  and 
bodies  of  others  ?  The  people  who  have  never 
done  any  harm  have  probably  done  as  little  good. 


322  STRUAN 

To  keep  one's  own  skirts  clear  is  surely  a  small 
result  for  the  glorious  opportunities  that  life 
affords.  Give  me  rather  generous  faults, — 
wrongs  committed  and  repented  of!  For  sin 
itself  has  its  noble  use  in  God's  great  plan  for 
man.  It  strengthens  his  moral  muscles,  and  it 
gives  him  insight  and  power  to  help  others. 
Compared  to  this,  what  is  blamelessness  ?  It  is 
the  attribute  of  the  infant,  the  humming-bird,  the 
flower !  Whether  it  is  the  attribute  of  the  angels 
or  not  we  don't  know ;  but,  if  we  ever  come  to  be 
inhabitants  of  heaven,  one  thing  we  shall  surely 
see, —  that  victory  is  better  than  innocence  ;  and, 
without  sin,  victory  could  not  be.  All  this  would 
appear  to  some  too  daring ;  but  I  have  a  high 
precedent  for  it,  at  least.  David  was  the  man 
after  God's  own  heart,  and  Mary  Magdalen  was 
the  friend  of  Christ." 

"  Oh,  what  strong,  what  helpful,  what  inspiring 
words  !  "  said  Millicent,  her  eyes  filling  with  tears. 
44  Surely,  they  are  our  greatest  benefactors  who  give 
us  thoughts  by  which  our  souls  grow  and  our 
hearts  get  courage.  This  is  the  very  best  that 
human  beings  can  do  for  each  other,  Lucien, — 
better  than  love  itself!  " 

He  looked  at  her,  a  long,  penetrating  gaze ;  and 
then  he  said  abruptly  : 


STRUAN  323 

"You  have  said  that  to  give  me  the  courage 
which  you  see  my  need  of  in  this  hour.  But  are 
you  right,  Millicent  ?  Is  anything  so  good  as 
love  ? " 

"  Nothing  so  sweet,"  she  said,  "  nothing  so 
satisfying  to  the  human  need.  But  the  divine  is 
in  us,  as  well  as  the  human ;  and  to  obey  that  is 
better  than  anything.  Often  what  it  teaches  is 
the  renunciation  of  love.  Of  one  thing  I  am  cer- 
tain :  if  we  are  not  able  to  do  without  it,  we  are 
not  worthy  to  have  it." 

Still  his  eyes  held  hers  with  that  searching,  con- 
centrated look,  as  he  answered  : 

"Your  lips  are  uttering  what  the  divine  voice 
within  is  whispering  to  my  soul.  My  life  has 
been  a  long  struggle,  Millicent ;  but  to-night  I 
give  it  up.  All  my  life  I  have  been  a  seeker  after 
love.  It  seemed,  for  me,  the  one  indispensable 
good.  From  to-night  I  give  up  the  search.  You 
have  put  into  words  the  consciousness  in  my  soul 
that  there  is  something  better.  To  find  that  must 
be,  for  the  future,  my  object  and  my  end." 

"  Thank  God  !  "  she  said,  her  firm  voice  slightly 
shaken.  "O  Lucien,  if  you  ever  pray, —  and  I 
know  you  do  pray  in  your  soul,  whether  with  your 
lips  and  on  your  knees  or  not, —  ask  God  to  give 
me  courage  for  my  life,  too.  I  know  that  he 


324  STRUAN 

will  not  fail  me ;  but,  oh,  I  do  need  help  !  I  have 
had  the  same  end  before  me  as  yours, —  love,  love, 
love,  beyond  everything ;  and  I  don't  believe  I, 
either,  ever  quite  gave  it  up  until  to-night.  But  I 
am  not  strong,  as  you  are.  I  am  only  a  woman, 
with  no  career,  no  work,  no  influence ;  and  often 
it  will  go  hard  with  me." 

"  No  influence  ?  Let  me  tell  you  something. 
If  I  had  ever  influenced  a  human  life  as  you  have 
influenced  mine,  if  I  had  ever  put  such  faith  in 
God  and  man  into  any  human  heart  as  you  have 
put  into  mine,  I  should  think  it  work,  career, 
achievement  enough,  if  there  was  nothing  else 
that  I  had  done." 

Millicent  smiled.  A  look  of  radiant  joy  ban- 
ished the  clouds  of  disturbance  and  doubt  her  face 
had  shown  ;  and  with  the  impulsiveness  of  a  child 
she  exclaimed  : 

"  Oh,  I'm  very  happy.  God  is  good.  Life  is 
good.  Renunciation  is  sweet,  as  well  as  bitter." 

He  smiled  in  answer. 

"  We  should  both  be  happy  in  this  hour,"  he 
said ;  "  for  we  have  both  been  able  to  prefer  a 
higher  will  to  our  own,  or  rather  to  merge  our 
wills  into  the  higher.  This  hour  has  given  you  to 
me,  Millicent,  in  a  sense  most  real  and  precious, — 
a  sense  in  which  you  will  be  forever  mine,  and  I 


STRUAN  325 

yours.  Never  have  I  felt  so  sure,  so  steadfast, 
so  firm  upon  my  feet  as  I  feel  now ;  and  to  you  I 
shall  owe  this  forever.  Yes,  as  you  say,  life  is 
good,  if  we  make  it  so ;  and  there  is  more  life  and 
fuller  beyond." 

For  a  moment  neither  spoke.  They  only 
looked  into  each  other's  eyes. 

Presently  Struan  said,  "Would  it  disturb  any 
one  if  I  played  to  you  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least.  Do  play.  It  would  com- 
fort us  both,  I  think." 

They  were  as  much  alone  as  if  they  had  been 
in  a  desert.  Millicent  sank  back  in  her  deep 
chair,  and  turned  her  face  against  its  padded  side, 
so  that  she  might  look  at  him.  His  profile  only 
was  in  her  view.  He  had  a  way  of  looking  up- 
ward when  he  was  playing,  and  she  could  see  the 
curve  of  his  strong  throat  coming  out  of  its  low 
collar.  He  had  none  of  the  nervous  movements 
common  to  most  pianists,  but  kept  his  head  so 
still,  except  when  he  occasionally  looked  down  at 
his  hands,  that  she  could  trace  every  change  of 
expression  in  eyes  and  brows  and  lips. 

Sometimes  his  gaze  was  turned  only  upon  the 
picture  which  hung  over  the  piano ;  but  once, 
once  only,  he  turned  it  upon  her.  He  did  not 
stop  playing  as  he  did  so,  but  struck  unerringly 


326  STRUAN 

the  sounding  chords  of  some  great  harmony  while 
he  turned  his  face  toward  her,  and  held  her  eyes 
with  that  poignant  gaze. 

Their  faces  were  very  near,  and  he  could  see 
that  Millicent's  eyes  had  tears  in  them.  As  his 
arms  moved  from  place  to  place  over  the  key- 
board, while  he  played,  now  loud,  now  low,  his 
body  was  still,  and  the  direction  of  his  eyes  un- 
changing. 

The  two  tears  overflowed  and  rolled  down  Mil- 
licent's cheeks,  but  she  was  motionless  in  every 
muscle.  He  bent  a  little  nearer  to  her ;  and  some- 
thing in  his  glance  compelled  her  to  lean  forward 
also,  so  that  their  faces  were  very  near,  and  their 
eyes  could  read  each  other  deep.  The  music  was 
so  soft  that  she  could  hear  her  own  thick  heart- 
beats ;  but  all  through  this  long  moment  that  low 
harmony  went  on,  without  the  slurring  of  a  note. 

At  last,  in  a  great  chord  of  deep  resounding 
sweetness,  it  ceased ;  and  Struan  rose  to  his  feet. 

Millicent  got  up,  too ;  and  they  stood  facing 
each  other. 

She  felt  her  two  hands  taken  in  a  strong  clasp, 
and  heard  him  say  in  a  voice  that  was  as  strong : 

"  There,  Millicent.  I  feel  now  that  there  is 
not  a  film  between  my  soul  and  yours.  I  am 
not  afraid  of  life,  with  your  faith  to  keep  me 


STRUAN  327 

strong.  Let  my  faith  help  you,  too.  Some  time, 
in  years  to  come,  we  will  speak  together  of  this 
hour,  and  of  the  fruits  of  it  in  both  our  lives." 

As  he  stood  an  instant  longer  so,  holding  her 
hands  and  looking  into  her  eyes,  she  smiled.  He 
smiled  in  answer, —  a  smile  as  inscrutable  as  hers. 
Yet  they  understood  each  other  ;  for  their  hands 
clasped  yet  more  warmly  for  a  second,  and  then 
they  parted. 

Struan  was  long  in  going  to  sleep  that  night ; 
but  he  was  calm,  composed,  and  resolute  as  to  the 
future.  But  Millicent  was  a  woman,  and  her 
heart  was  torn  with  woman  pangs.  So,  while  he 
lay  there  planning  his  course  of  action  in  a  life 
which  would  divide  him  from  her  forever,  she  lay 
in  a  room  near  by,  and  shook  from  head  to  foot 
with  sobs.  Her  spirit  had  not  weakened,  her 
purpose  had  not  faltered ;  but  she  was  bewildered, 
hungry,  and  alone,  and  she  cried  there  in  the  dark- 
ness, like  a  little  helpless  child. 


XXV 

NEXT  morning,  when  Miss  Evleth's  coffee 
was  brought  in  to  her,  there  was  a  black- 
lettered,  yellow  envelope  among  the  mail 
matter  on  her  tray.     She  reached  to  get  it ;  but, 
before  her  hand  touched  it,  she  had  recognized  the 
writing  on  another  envelope    which    had    neither 
stamp  nor  post-mark. 

Making  some  pretext  to  send  her  maid  away, 
she  put  her  coffee  by  untasted,  and  opened  Struan's 
note.  It  enclosed  a  telegram,  and  ran  : 

I  am  taking  first  train  for  San  Francisco.  Say  nothing 
to  Leonard.  I  will  write  to  him  and  to  you  later.  The 
enclosed  will  explain  all. 

The  telegram  within  the  letter  simply  stated 
that  Jenny  had  been  injured  in  the  burning  of  the 
Star  Theatre  in  San  Francisco.  It  was  signed 
Ida  Wallis. 

For  some  moments  Millicent  remained  motion- 
less, this  telegram  in  her  hand.  She  had  read  it 
several  times  before  she  remembered  the  other 
telegram.  This  proved  to  be  from  her  aunt,  and 
was  in  these  words  : 

328 


STRUAN  329 

Come  as  soon  as  possible.      All  arrangements  made. 

Within  a  week  of  that  morning  Millicent  sailed 
for  Europe.  Leonard  came  to  say  good-by  and 
see  her  off.  They  had  had  tidings  from  Struan 
that  Jenny's  injury  was  a  most  serious  one.  She 
might  live,  but,  if  so,  would  be  a  cripple  for  life. 

As  Millicent  and  Leonard  were  parting  on  the 
deck  of  the  steamer,  the  hearts  of  both  were  pro- 
foundly sad.  She  tried  to  say  some  brave  words 
to  him,  but  voice  and  spirit  seemed  to  falter ;  and 
she  could  only  promise  to  write  soon  and  often, 
and  to  love  him  always. 

When  the  notice  came  for  visitors  to  leave  the 
ship,  she  raised  her  face  and  kissed  him,  the  tears 
overflowing  her  eyes.  He  wrung  her  hand  and 
went,  without  a  word. 

She  watched  him  on  the  wharf,  pushing  his  way 
through  the  surging  crowd,  his  great  height  mak- 
ing him  easily  distinguishable.  Once  he  turned, 
and  they  smiled,  each  for  the  sake  of  the  other, 
and  waved  a  cheerful  adieu ;  but  they  knew  it  was 
rather  a  poor  effort.  She  watched  him  still,  es- 
caped from  the  crowd,  walking  with  his  great 
stride,  and  pounding  the  ground  with  his  stick, 
unconscious  of  everything  around  him,  but  con- 
scious, as  she  knew,  of  a  deep  loneliness  within. 


330  STRUAN 

After  the  ship  had  sailed,  a  telegram  was  handed 
her,  which  had  been  brought  on  board  at  the  last 
moment.  It  was  from  Struan,  and  its  message 
was  that  Jenny  was  dead. 

This  brief  announcement,  and  the  unexpected 
feeling  which  she  knew  had  gone  into  it,  touched 
Millicent  to  tenderness  and  tears.  What  a  great 
loneliness  his  life  had  been  all  through !  How 
lonely  all  lives  seemed  !  For  such  natures  as 
theirs  —  Struan's  and  Leonard's  and  her  own  — 
there  was  no  cure  for  this  loneliness  except  in  the 
complement  of  self  by  union  with  its  human  mate. 
Struan  had  missed  that  consummation.  She  had 
missed  it.  Would  Leonard  attain  to  it,  and  would 
their  two  lonely  hearts  have  their  only  vision  of 
joy  through  him  ? 

Her  passionate  regret  for  the  man  was  mingled 
with  a  passionate  hope  for  the  boy,  as  she  stood 
looking  back  from  the  deck  of  the  steamer  which 
was  bearing  her  away  from  them  both  into  the 
yet  deeper  loneliness  of  a  life  in  which  they  had 
no  part. 


A     000  046  003     o 


